The Phantom Triumphant
by FantomPhan33
Summary: Erik is the lonely and disillusioned Opera Ghost who is suddenly saved from his tiresome existence by the appearance of a lovely new singer, Christine Daae. Can he find a way to interact with her and not frighten her away?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all my dear ones! As I begin to work on a new story I am sending up this old one that I wrote a few years back. It is my ideal way the whole Phantom story should have gone. It is more on the sweet side - with a touch of Scary Erik thrown in for fun. It is mostly based on the play with a little bit of Kay here and there. I hope you enjoy it.**

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CHAPTER 1

_THE FIRST RAY OF HOPE_

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The loneliness was becoming unbearable. Erik found little or no pleasure in the things that had entertained him in the past. The music that had once been his only passion had grown cold and lifeless to him. He rarely made the ascent from his dark kingdom to Box 5 of the Paris Opera House to hear the performances that still enthralled large audiences. It was mostly due to the lead singer whom the current managers had had the misfortune to employ for the past year. Carlotta hit so many painful notes that Erik refrained from purchasing large quantities of milk for fear she would curdle it with her voice, thus ruining his investment.

It would not have been so bad if he had only to avoid the Opera stage in order to be free of her atrocious voice. But in many parts of his underground abode, the terrible diva's voice could be heard trickling down through the endless catacombs of hidden passageways and pipes. That is why Erik would seclude himself in his deepest chambers, away from the persistent wails of Carlotta. He feared at times that either the rest of Paris was deaf, or perhaps he had finally succumbed to the maddening effects of years of isolation. For no one but he seemed to notice how awful Carlotta was. Thundering applause would erupt from the audience after each of her performances, much to Erik's disbelief. But what did those fools know? They apparently had no basis for comparison and would applaud the best their limited experience knew. But not Erik. He had heard the greatest singers of the world, played the sweetest music and wrote a score of concertos that would bring tears to your eyes. He knew what good was…and Carlotta was _not_ it.

At first Erik had tried to rid the Opera House of its new prima donna by employing the talents that had earned him the legendary titles of Phantom and Opera Ghost. It gave him a mixture of pleasure, as well as regret, to hear the stage hands and performers whisper his name in fear as their eyes darted around to dark corners, praying that they never encounter the mysterious specter. But Erik was not a ghost or apparition as the majority of people believed. He was a man; an ingenious one who knew the arts of secrecy, sleight of hand, ventriloquism and music…but a man none the less. And because he was only human he was no less susceptible to the pains of loneliness, which had always been present, but had just recently become next to impossible to bare. He longed for companionship, for a friend, for someone to love…and someone to love him in return.

But the reason he remained isolated, keeping everyone away with his ghostly pretense was the same reason he knew he could never expect anyone to love him. His face. The ghastly disfigurement that covered his entire right side from chin to forehead, had left him to receive nothing but fear and loathing from anyone who ever had the misfortune to see him without his mask. The mask that had all but become a part of him. The mask that even his mother had made him wear just so she could stand to be in the same room with him.

_Mother_, Erik thought with a snort of derision. The woman did not even deserve the coveted title. She should have been the one person to love him unconditionally, yet it was she who had caused him the most pain in the world. She had been so ashamed and repulsed by him that she kept him inside, never letting people even know that she had a child.

She had named him Erik, but he had learned that this hadn't been the original name chosen for him. Had he not been so hideous at birth, he would have been named after his father who had been killed in a construction accident at his company a few months before Erik was born. But his mother had refused to give the name of her beloved husband to a monster such as he. And that was how Erik grew up, knowing that his mother could feel no love, no maternal bond for him. He was alone. So when he was eight years old, he ran away from his unhappy mother and home, stealing away under the protective cover of darkness.

But the world outside his mother's home had turned out to be just as cruel and unfeeling, if not more so. He wandered aimlessly in search of a place for himself, somewhere he could belong. But after his vast travels he came to reside beneath the Paris Opera House, beneath the home of his one true love…music.

What nature had taken from him in appearance, it had more that make up for in heart and talent. Erik had the mind and skill of a genius, the voice of and angel and a heart of gold. But even golden hearts can be broken from years of torture and the hurtful words from uncaring, frightened people. And Erik's heart had almost reached the point of non-repair.

That was the reason he no longer cared if Carlotta sang, and he all but ceased his attempts to frighten her from the Opera House. He of course couldn't help putting on a small show for the people every once in a while just to renew their fear of the Opera Ghost. But even this was growing tiresome. Life, as it was for him, was becoming weary. Each day stretched out before Erik as lonely and endless as the last. Even the opera he had begun writing years ago, his life's work, was barely enough reason for him to rise from his sleep to face his existence. It was at this point, when he had nothing to look forward to but the peace and end of loneliness that death would bring him, that the first ray of hope entered his dark world.

Erik had been in his boat, making the silent journey up the long river that ran beneath the Opera House, when he heard her voice. Her dulcet tones penetrated the walls and lovingly surrounded him like he always wished his mother's arms would have. He stood as still as death in his boat and let the music sweep over him. Closing his eyes he tried to envision the face from which such sweet music could originate. And as she sang his spirit and will to live was rejuvenated. Her voice was untrained, it was true, but he could hear the talent that lay hidden inside, waiting for the right teacher to help it emerge. Waiting for _him_.

For the first time in what seemed ages he made his way to the Opera House stage, where he concealed himself in his usual hiding place in Box 5. There he gazed upon the source of his new found joy. Her name, he later discovered, was Christine Daae, a young girl auditioning for the opera chorus. She was young, perhaps seventeen or eighteen and yet a full grown woman in form and face. Her beautiful chestnut colored hair fell down her back midway in delicious curls and Erik found his hand reaching out with a desire to touch. Her beautiful blue eyes were like sapphires that shone brightly even from where he stood hidden high above the stage. Erik could not imagine a more beautiful woman to accompany such a heavenly voice…she was perfection itself.

The girl was of course hired, but Erik knew that anyone who entertained the idea that Carlotta was a great singer would also be ignorant enough not to notice the potential in the girl before them. So it was then, as he watched her from his hiding place, that he resolved to teach her himself, to aid her all he could in her assent to excellence.

But how could he do it? How could he teach her without being seen by her or anyone else? If she saw him she would surely faint from fright or run screaming from him; a thought which Erik dreaded more than loneliness. He would just have to wait, listen and seize the opportunity when it presented itself.

Keeping an eye on her was not difficult for Erik, for like a lot of the singers and dancers, she lived in the apartments built into the Opera House. It was to ensure that the performers made it to their rehearsals on time as well as on stage. And since there were countless peep holes, hidden doors and endless shadows in which a Phantom might hide, Christine was rarely out of his sight. She had become his obsession. She occupied his thoughts every waking hour and infiltrated his dreams as he slept. He concentrated on nothing but her and how he could help her. It would be his crowning moment, his one good contribution of beauty to the world that only saw him as ugly. So he watched, listened, dreamed and waited.

He learned many things about her in the weeks that followed her employment. She was as kind and gentle as she was beautiful. From the start everyone loved her, her caring and helpful nature only brought out the good in people. Everyone, that is, except Carlotta. For even though she couldn't avail it to herself, Carlotta sensed the talent hidden in Christine, and resented her for it. All of this did not go unnoticed by Erik's keen and watchful gaze and he made a point to keep an eye on Carlotta for future developments.

Erik would rise each morning with a new sense of wonder and purpose. What new and exciting things would he learn about Christine that day? What piece of her past would she unknowingly reveal to him as she went about under his protective eyes. Each day she surprised him more than the last and each day his feelings for her grew. He longed to feel free to reveal himself to her, but his fear held him back. Erik knew his limitations, set by the hatred from the world, and dared not cross that invisible line. To help Christine, to be her guide and teacher, would bring him more happiness than he had ever known before, and for him it would be enough.

In the meantime he was satisfied with simple things. He could watch her, listen to her sing and vicariously live his life through her.

When she was on stage he would slip through the secret panel hidden behind her mirror and enter her room. It was small and dreary, not at all fitting for a girl of her beauty and talent, Erik thought. But she had done her best to make it nice. She would pick some wild flowers that grew nearby and put them in a simple vase on her dressing table, and she had hung a few pictures and covered her bed with a bright and cheerful spread. Erik would sit in her chair and pretend he was awaiting her return from the stage, imagining that she had sent him a note to wait for her there when the opera was finished. He would envision her running into her room, all smiles, and he would be waiting with a huge bouquet of roses. It was a lovely dream, but then he would open his eyes, and seeing the wilting wildflowers, he would remember it was just the cruel fantasies of a man condemned to solitude. And with a wistful and gentle touch of her pillow, where she dreamed no doubt of a handsome prince at night, he would slip back into the walls of his domain.

As if seeing her during the day wasn't enough, Erik soon found himself on the other side of her wall at night as well. If he was quiet enough he imagined he could hear her light breathing and unable to control the love that was ever growing in his heart, he would softly sing sweet lullabies to her while she slept. He was careful not to sing too loud so as no one else would hear and he wouldn't wake her. Just loud enough so it filled her dreams. If he heard her stir, he would stop and wait for her to resume her slumber. Each night his song would be sweeter, more heartfelt more loving.

And it was quite by accident that his nighttime serenade became the answer to his problem of how to teach her without revealing himself.

It was during a day when Christine was helping one of the dancers adjust her costume in her room, that the answer began to take shape. It was Meg Giry, daughter to Madame Giry the ballet instructor, who first noticed the tune Christine was humming to herself as she pinned the hem of Meg's skirt.

"What is that song? The melody is quite lovely." She asked, trying to stand still for fear of being stuck by the pins.

"I don't know. I have never heard it before, but I awake each morning with this tune running around in my mind." Christine sat back on the floor and looked thoughtful. "I can almost imagine the words but they remain out of my reach, living in that realm between sleep and awake."

"Sounds terribly mysterious to me." Meg replied, her face lighting up with intrigue.

"It is almost as if I can hear a voice at night, from far away, singing this tune to me over and over. But each time I bring myself fully awake, it is gone. Yet each night the song returns." Christine looked up at Meg and laughed nervously. "Do you think I am going mad?"

"No, of course not." Meg assured her, stepping off the stool she had been standing on. She sat carefully down on it and brought her face very close to Christine's so as not to be heard over her excited whisper. But Erik's ears were keen and from behind the wall, he heard everything.

"Many strange and unexplained things go on around here. Things disappearing, props moved mysteriously, shadows that appear out of nowhere, and voices…"

"Voices? What sort of voices?" Christine asked in a hushed whisper like Meg.

"Voices…from the Phantom." She took Christine's hands in hers and Christine could feel her trembling slightly from fear or excitement. "I have never seen him myself, but they say he has haunted the Opera House for years. He wears a long dark cape and a gentleman's hat and suit. And one side of his face is hidden behind a white mask. No one knows quite why, but we can only assume it is due to something he wishes for no one to see. Joseph Buquet, the prop mover, says that his eyes are like fire and if you remain too long under his gaze, you will burn from the heat."

"And how would he know this?" Christine asked, being swept along by her tale.

"He has been with the Opera House a long time, longer than even mother. He said that years ago the Phantom used to steal away unwary ballet dancers to sacrifice them to his monstrous appetite. Mother says he is lying, that he is just telling us those stories to frighten us, and I have to admit that Joseph is a bit odd. But you never know, like I said, he has worked here a long time."

So, Erik thought, he had Joseph Buquet to thank for a lot of the fear that surrounded his Phantom persona. Which was all good and well in keeping unwanted ghost seekers away from his underground home, but making him out to be a cannibal was going a bit far. He would have to make a point of someday frightening Buquet's wagging tongue into silence.

"Mother has even spoken to him." Erik heard Meg continue.

"Oh Meg, are you serious, or just trying to frighten me?" Christine asked, half expecting Meg to throw back her head and laugh at the joke she was now playing. But Meg remained serious.

"No Christine, it is the truth. Everyone knows about the Phantom, they are just too frightened to speak of him. Have you ever wondered why no one ever sits in Box 5?"

And now that Meg mentioned it, Christine had often noticed that those particular seats were always vacant.

"It is _his_ box. He has instructed that it always be reserved for him alone. That is how my mother came to speak to him. One night as she was passing Box 5 during a performance, a voice from inside asked her to bring a program for the night's play. Without looking inside she went to fetch one. But when she returned there was no one in the seats. Thinking that they had left, she too began to go when a voice from nowhere spoke to her saying: _'Please leave the program before you go'_. Well my mother was frightened quite out of her wits, and dropping the program on the floor she ran for the door. But just as she reached it, it slammed shut and would not open. _'Don't be frightened, Madame Giry. I am the Opera Ghost_.' The voice explained. And even though she was still afraid, she ceased her struggle with the door, for she said that the voice sounded so kind and gentle it made her almost want to hear it again. 'What do you want?' She asked the Ghost. _'I require that for each performance you bring me a program. It is a small task for which you will be rewarded, and it would please me, Madame Giry._' He then thanked her for her time, the door opened unaided and my mother rushed out. When the performance was over my mother and the managers went back up to Box 5 and sure enough, the program was gone and on the ledge sat three franks. The managers then assigned mother as the official keeper of Box 5 and instructed her to do all she could to keep the Phantom happy. And so she has, leaving him a program for each performance since. When he comes to the plays he will leave her a few franks or sometimes, when he is in a particularly thoughtful mood, a box of English chocolates that she is so fond of. But she told me he has not been to Box 5 in some time. Not that this stops it from remaining vacant or from mother bringing a program. For who knows when he will chose to appear and they dare not risk his wrath. And the management even goes so far as to pay him 20 thousand francs a month, which disappears mysteriously while in plain view." Meg finished.

"What would a ghost want with money?" Christine asked, shaking her head in a disbelieving manner. This Phantom was not sounding much like your run-of-the-mill ghost and Christine had never been one who was easily persuaded into believing such fanciful tales. And yet…Meg did seem quite in earnest.

"Who knows, but it seems to keep him happy. Not so many incidents occur when he is paid regularly. But I myself have heard his haunting laugh as it echoed around the Opera and I have seen notes to the managers that he leaves for them containing instructions on how _his _theater should be run."

"His theater?" Christine repeated.

"Well, he is the _Phantom of the Opera_." She reasoned.

"But why haven't I seen any signs of him, or heard him?" Christine questioned, almost sounding disappointed.

"He has been quite uneventful lately. No one has seen or heard from him since he picked up his last salary. But who knows, maybe you have heard him. It could be him singing to you at night." Meg's eyes got very big at this idea.

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm quite sure that this Phantom has better things to do than take time out of his busy schedule of haunting to sing to me in my dreams." Christine laughed, causing Meg to look disappointed. "But..." Christine began as she got up and walked slowly over to her dressing table and sat down her box of pins. "…there was someone I thought it could have been."

"Who?" Meg asked getting all excited again

Christine began to answer, then turned away with a blush spreading across her face.

"No, you would laugh." She said, slightly embarrassed by her childish idea.

"I wouldn't, I promise. If you don't tell me I will just die of curiosity, I swear I will!" Meg pleaded.

And Meg wasn't the only one who was all ears at that moment. Erik was straining so hard to hear every word she may utter next that he feared his heart would beat right out of his chest.

"All right, but you have to promise that you will tell no one." Christine warned as she returned to sit by a fidgeting Meg. "When I was a little girl, my father told me that each great singer, if they were diligent in their studies and had the true desire to excel, would be visited by the Angel of Music. That the Angel would teach them things that only he could, and they would sing as no one on earth. And before he died, my father promised that he would send the Angel of Music to me." When she stopped, the blush of embarrassment returned. "It is a foolish idea, isn't it. A silly story made up for children."

"No, I think it is beautiful." Meg replied in a dreamy voice. "And why couldn't it be this Angel of Music? It is no less fanciful than my idea that it is the Phantom. Yours sounds so much more romantic though." Meg rested her chin on her hand and looked wistful. "Too bad there isn't an Angel of Dance."

"Who knows, there may be. If I ever find out for sure if this voice is the Angel of Music, I will ask him for you." Christine laughed, and Meg joined in. "But how can I find out?"

"Have you ever tried asking him?"

"No…It just recently occurred to me that it could be him. My father died several years ago, if he were going to send this Angel to me, why now? Why not sooner?"

"Now Christine, there are a lot of good singers in the world. You can't expect him to drop everything and come directly to you, can you? Maybe you weren't ready before now. There could be many good reasons, but the point is that he is here now. So don't go over analyzing the situation until he is gone, never to return."

"So you think I should try talking to this voice, this Angel?" Christine asked, daring to believe all of Meg's encouragement.

"You don't have anything to loose, and so much to gain." Meg pointed out.

At that moment Erik could have hugged the young dancer, if he were the type inclined to do so. Fate had smiled on him once again, and he made a mental note to do something nice for Meg as a thank you.

Before they could talk further, Madame Giry's voice was heard down the hall, calling the dancers together for further instructions. With a sigh Meg rose and headed for the door.

"Mother is a hard task master, but a least she is fair." She smiled. "Which doesn't work in my favor, because I can't get her to move me up to first row solely on the fact that we are related." She put the back of her hand to her forehead and gave a deep sigh. "But we all have our burdens we must bear."

"Just be sure you don't stab yourself with those pins before you change." Christine warned, laughing at Meg's dramatics.

"Ooo, ouch. Yes!" Meg agreed, remembering quite painfully their presence. Then with a wave she hurried down the hall.

Christine sat alone in her room and looked around, listening.

"Well Angel, if that is who you truly are. When will you reveal yourself to me?" She whispered.

Behind the barrier that separated the two, Erik laid his cheek against the cool wood as his fingers gently stroked the wall.

"Soon, my love, soon." He whispered back.

And for the briefest moment Christine entertained the idea that she had heard a voice…but only for a moment.

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**Well there we have it. Like I said, this one is a bit different than Angel of Persia, but it is a fun little piece of fluff.**

**So what do you think of Erik? Good? Bad? Not bad enough? ha ha**

**How about Christine?**

**What about Erik's obsession with her?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all those who are now following this story that I have never met before…welcome and please send a quick review and let me know what you think. Also welcome back to all the readers I became so attached to from Angel of Persia! So nice to see your icons and screen names popping back up in my E-Mail again. I missed ya! **

**I plan on updating every OTHER day on this story, so here is your next chapter. This will be the last of the 'setting things up' chapter, then we get deep into the plotline. Hope you enjoy!**

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CHAPTER 2

_ANGEL OF MUSIC_

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The rest of the day Erik remained _busy, _more busy than he had been in a long time. Christine had given him hope and in turn, a purpose. After she had left her room for rehearsals, Erik quickly replaced her full length mirror with a thick smoky piece of glass that could be slid aside to allow easier access from the hidden passageway. When he would sit behind the glass with the door open he could see inside Christine's room. And as long as there was no light behind him it would look like a regular mirror. So Erik would have to remember to douse all lanterns from the passageway before opening the door. When this was complete he checked his handiwork once more to be sure no one would notice any change, then he returned to his secret chambers below the Opera House to begin his second project.

Later that night as Christine dressed for bed she wondered about how to address this Angel if it should once again sing to her in her dreams. She decided to remain awake and wait, hoping it was the hour that determined its performance and not the state of her consciousness. So Christine climbed into her bed, blew out her light and waited in the darkness and silence.

Meanwhile Erik had been so distracted below the Opera House that he had forgotten the time. In his world it was always dark and the concept of day and night meant little to him. The only importance it now held revolved around Christine; when she would be awake or when she would be asleep. When Erik did take a break from his labors and noticed the time, he quickly re-donned his hat and cape and ascended the winding passageway to Christine.

When he arrived outside her room he listened for any movement from inside to indicate that she may be awake or in a state of undress. When he heard nothing, he quietly opened the secret door behind her mirror. All was dark inside and judging the late hour Erik felt it was safe to begin his serenade. It began softly at first, but as the music began to overtake him his voice rose slightly.

Huddled in her bed Christine's excitement rose as she heard the voice coming from everywhere around her at once. It was so beautiful, almost hauntingly so that she was not sure she could find the nerve to speak. What if she did confront this Angel and he fled from her? Was speaking to it permitted? Would it be a sin to ask? She had to know, for she could no longer go on night after night without finding out. So mustering all her courage she called out.

"Angel?" Quickly she struck a match and lit a candle, bathing the room in the soft warm glow of light. "Angel? Angel of Music, is that you?" Christine called softly as she sat up in bed.

Erik was stunned, her voice causing all words to die on his lips. Erik was at a loss, he hadn't planned on making contact for several more days. He hadn't had time to contemplate his words to her, how to gain her trust or what to say. Speaking to people, especially beautiful women, was something he had spent his entire life avoiding. He truly had so few opportunities to speak with others that he was not sure how to go about it. Would he frighten her if he spoke, or embarrass himself by not saying the right thing?

She reached for her dressing gown, throwing it around her shoulders as she rose from her bed. Erik averted his eyes, for though she was modestly covered, he felt like an intruder. And that was what he was, an intruder and a spy. And if he went forward with his plan, be it tonight or later, he would also be a liar. How could he deceive her, ask her to befriend him on the basis of a pretense? He should go, he should abandon this desperate man's farce and simply disappear. That is what ghosts do after all… they vanish. He turned to leave, starting to close the door to her mirror behind him. But an impassioned plea from Christine stopped him cold.

"Angel…please!" Her voice was close to a sob as she turned around her room, desperately searching for the voice she had undeniably heard seconds ago. "If you are here, make yourself known, I beg of you. For otherwise I shall feel that I am going mad." She was becoming frantic now, on the verge of tears, and the catch in her voice made Erik's chest constrict in pain.

He slowly turned back to face her room, watching her sink to the floor in despair and bury her face in her hands.

"I don't understand." She said quietly between her tears. "Why do you not answer me?"

This was too much for Erik, he would sooner drive a dagger through his own aching heart than to see her cry. He had done this, caused his dear Christine pain and it was a bitter sweet irony that this time it had been his voice that had been the cause, and not his face. There was only one thing to do, to ease her suffering he would have to go ahead with his deception.

"Christine." He called softly, her name as sweet as honey to his lips. "Christine, do not cry. I am here."

She immediately ceased her tears and once again looked around the room for the source of the voice. Christine's blue eyes still glistened with moisture but now they were full of hope as well.

"Please, weep no more my lady, for your heart has proven true. Arise and know that from me you have nothing to fear." Erik spoke in a kind and mild tone, careful not to betray the heart wrenching emotions he fought inside.

"Who are you? Are you truly the Angel of Music?" Christine asked, still unsure as to her unseen companion.

"I am he who can raise you voice to unimaginable heights. I ask your leave, my lady, to serve you as teacher, protector and confidant. If you choose to decline my proposal, be assured that no harm will come to you because of your refusal. I await your reply at your convenience."

Erik found that a small part of him, the deepest part of his honorable side, wished that she would reject him. But every other fiber of his being was screaming prayers that she wouldn't. All his future happiness seemed to hang on her next words.

But Christine needed no time to decide. Be he Angel or no, she couldn't refuse his voice. The voice that only inspired trust in her as it sang and spoke to her.

"Please, I beseech you to stay. I gratefully accept your most generous offer and I only pray that I am worthy of it." She called out.

Erik felt as if his heart had taken wings and he could fly. He tasted the sweet ambrosia of joy for the first time.

"Angel?" She called again, mistaking his moment of silence for abandonment.

"I am here." He answered, quick to calm her fears. "From this day forward you have but to call and your Angel of Music will fly to your side. Till the day you bid me leave, I shall ever remain your constant companion and champion, eager to do all you entreat of me."

"I ask only that you never leave. That I am never parted from your wondrous voice. And if given this, it is I who shall be your humble servant, willing to do all you command."

"Of this you need never fear." Erik assured her, for leaving her of his own free will could only be looked upon as the act of a mad man. _A mad man…_oh he was insane, was he not? Insane and sinful for daring to speak with such an angel as she. But it felt so good to speak, to ask questions or make a comment and to have someone reply. Erik found it almost euphoric. To speak and be spoken to…such a little thing, but it truly meant so much. "However, you must promise that this be kept between us as our secret. For there are those who, if they knew of this, would look at you as though you have misplaced your sanity."

"I swear to tell no one …except." She hesitated, afraid of revealing the fact that she had already confided in Meg.

"I am aware of the information possessed by Miss Giry, and I do not begrudge her this. For it was she who gave you the courage to seek me out. To her alone you may speak… but no one else." Erik told her.

"Thank you." Christine seemed relieved. "And with my oath of silence given, what are your instructions?"

"For now I desire that you sleep. I will come to you each evening at nine o'clock and instruct you in the arts of music. But between lessons recall that you only need speak my name and I will be with you whether you hear my voice or just feel my presence. Now off to bed and I will sing to you as you sleep."

Christine complied, but just before she blew out her light she called to him again.

"Angel. There is a question I promised to ask, if it is permitted." She asked hesitantly, looking down at her hands in her lap as if she were afraid she might offend him if she spoke more.

Erik smiled, remembering her and Meg's conversation from earlier.

"No, my lady, there is no Angel of Dance for little Meg. But fear not, her talent is plain and under her mother's fine tutelage she will excel." He gave a gentle laugh. "Now sleep, for the night is well along and there is much to do in the days ahead."

"Thank you Angel." Christine replied as she doused her candle and lay back in her bed.

"The honor is all mine." Erik replied, and true to his word he continued to sing softly to her long into the night.

A new world had opened up for Erik, and in the days that followed he experienced happiness that he never knew existed. Each day he worked on his project in his underground sanctuary and each evening he would spend with his darling Christine. With each lesson her voice and talent grew as did their friendship. She began to tell him things about her day, her family and herself. Erik would drink in the sound of her laughter and devour every scrap of information she so freely doled out about her hopes, her fears and her dreams. He had truly become her confidant, she holding nothing back from him. And each day he felt he was one step closer to being able to tell her the truth of his existence. But then a cold fear would fall over him. He had come so far, gained so much, that he didn't know how he would survive going back to the life he had known before should she ever reject him. For now he would be content to leave well enough alone and savor this new and undeserved bliss. One need not smell, pick or hold a rose in order to enjoy its beauty, he reasoned.

With all of his new preoccupations Erik had no time to spare for the haunting of the Opera. Except for acquiring his monthly salary and anonymously leaving a small, but expensive bottle of perfume in Meg's dressing room, he all but ceased his pranks and annoyances. That could explain how Carlotta gained the nerve to devise her little plan against

Christine, and how because he was so busy, it went unnoticed by Erik. Almost to the point of it being too late.

It all began one evening when Erik arrived early to Christine's room for her lesson. Opening the door he saw Christine sitting in a chair facing the full length mirror, as she brushed her hair. Many times he had longed to touch her soft brown curls as she slept, her long tresses flowing over her pillow like silk. And as she ran her brush through it tonight, the candle light causing it to dance with a life of its own, his hand went out unconsciously to stroke it. Now whether it was due to some movement of the mirror when he touched the glass, or if she had actually seen the reflection of his hand coming at her, he didn't know. But the results could not have been more detrimental.

Christine dropped her brush with a cry of fright and stood up so quickly that her chair fell backward onto the floor. Erik recoiled away from the mirror and backed into the passageway at her terror. How could he have been so careless? All this time she had been lulling him into a state of worry free joy, and it had left him lax and negligent of his circumstance. It brought him to the realization that he had hoped too much, dared to believe in what he now knew was the impossible. He must return to his original resolve. To help Christine would give him enough happiness to sustain him for the rest of his life. She had already given him this and so much more, he would be satisfied, he should not press further.

When he dared approach the mirror again she was still slightly shaken, but seemed to calm immediately at the sound of his voice. When he inquired what had been troubling her, she dismissed it as a childish overreaction to nothing at all, and no more was said of it.

But as their lesson began, Erik could see that she was yet preoccupied by something else. When he questioned her a second time about her distraction, she blushed like a school girl and proceeded to tell her friend her delightful secret.

"Do you recall, Angel, when I told you about the summer my father and I spent at the beach? I spoke of a young boy about my age who had gallantly ran into the sea to retrieve my lost scarf that the wind had carried away. And how all summer we had laughed and played, and at our parting pledged to be friends forever?"

"Yes, I remember." Erik answered. He remembered everything she had ever told him, but he especially recalled this story. For he had felt a twinge of jealousy for this boy who had had the pleasure of knowing Christine as a young and carefree child. And as she spoke of this incident again, that feeling returned and he didn't care for the direction in which her explanation was heading.

"Well Angel, he was here at the Opera tonight. All grown up and quite handsome. He sat up in Box 2 and even though I was sure he didn't remember me, I remembered him. Though how could he be expected to, he an important Vicomte and me just an ordinary chorus girl that he met many years ago."

"No Christine, you are anything but ordinary." Erik corrected her.

"If so, it is solely due to you, dear Angel." She replied, a smile of gratitude springing to her lips. "But you can imagine my surprise when during intermission a note was sent to me backstage. It was from him, from Raoul! He complimented me on my performance, the meager part that it was, and even inquired as to whether I still possessed the red scarf he had so bravely rescued for me. He then asked if I would wait for him after the performance to speak with him. Oh Angel, I could hardly contain my excitement during the second act."

"And did you meet him Christine? Did you see this…_boy_?" Erik asked, masking the pain in his voice.

"Yes. I waited for him and he did come. It was like the years apart meant nothing, we were as children again. We spoke for almost an hour, where he invited me to dine with him tomorrow night. I felt it almost improper to accept an invitation of this nature so quickly, but after all it was not as if we were strangers, so I agreed." She spun around in pure glee. "Oh dear, dear Angel, I could hardly wait for your visit to tell you. Isn't it marvelous!?"

But Erik was no longer listening. His mind was filled with anew sort of suffering. One he had never experienced before. This had all began as a way to help teach her to sing, to transform her voice into what he dreamed it could be. But now…suddenly he knew it had grown into much more. Dare he believe what he was now feeling? Happiness, exhilaration, jealousy, pain, suffering? All these were not the feelings one would associate with a mere student or a protégé that he was only tutoring. No, these were feelings one would have for a person they loved. _Love_. When had it grown so strong? When had it blossomed into that elusive emotion that Erik had so long been denied? He loved Christine… and it terrified him. For just when he had at last come to know its true power, it was being ripped from his grasp just as quickly by this new interloper…Raoul. He had once read that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But he now doubted those poetic words. Once you have experienced the rapture of hope and longing, it made the pain of loss all the more intense. Would he have been better off never to have loved Christine to begin with? Could he have lived happier never having met her? No… for then he would not have lived at all.

"Angel?" Christine called.

But Erik was unable to answer.

"Angel, have you gone?" She became frightened. "Have I said something to offend you? Please answer me, what have I done?"

_Nothing, my dear Christine,_ he thought silently. For she hadn't. She had committed no sin or act of betrayal to him, for he never held her by such a commitment. She was free to choose whom she saw…or whom she may love. Again, fate had cruelly reminded him of his limitations. The limitations of a man behind a mask which served as easily as prison bars. She was not to blame, she had every right to her happiness. And if he could still remain a small part of her life… it would be enough.

"Angel!?" She called again.

"I have not gone Christine." Erik answered slowly. "I was just thinking."

"You sound sad Angel, have I upset you in some way? Tell me how to correct it and I shall. Whatever you ask I will do." She assured him.

He was tempted to ask her to give up this young and handsome Vicomte, but his love for her prevented it.

"No my child, you have done nothing wrong. I was only saddened by the thought that you may give up you music for…love. _For him._ And that would be a tragedy, for you have progressed beyond even my expectations and soon you will be able to give the people of this world a small gift of heaven. Promise me that, though you may see this young man, he will not interfere with your studies or with our lessons."

"How could you even imagine he could? You are my one true friend and companion. I would do everything in my power to keep you near me. For I fear nothing in this world so much as the thought to losing you, my unseen Angel's voice."

She said this with such loving truth that the pain in Erik's heart was lessened somewhat.

"I am glad." He said. "Why don't you go to sleep now. You have had a busy day and you look tired. We can forgo any further lessons for this evening."

"Very well Angel, if you think it best." She agreed, still not quite sure if she had convinced him of her devotion to her studies. "Will you sing to me while I sleep, Angel?"

"Yes Christine, I will." Erik answered, but he knew that tonight his heart would not be in it.

**Well now we have introduced the 'fly in the ointment' so to speak…the dreaded Raoul has come to call. Gunna have fun with him, hee hee.**

**So what do you think about how Erik revealed himself?**

**How he almost chickened out and didn't do it?**

**Her befriending him and telling him things – sometimes things he would rather NOT hear about?**

**Erik's reaction to the mention of Raoul?**

**My hint at danger coming up?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Now we get into the meat of the story – plot line forthcoming! I thank you all for your support and reviews as well as those new ones I see following this story…please take a moment to drop me a line and tell me what you think. I love hearing from readers and if you ask questions, I do answer them!**

**Oh and I know I said updates would be every other day, but I will be majorly busy tomorrow so I am sending it up today instead.**

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Chapter 3

**_Deception and Danger_**

The next day was a dismal one for Erik, where before he had been busy with his project, he now wandered his chambers silently. His labors were now only a cruel reminder that it had all been in vain. Tonight Christine would be dining with _him_, this Raoul de Chagny. Erik knew that all he had to do was ask Christine not to see him again and she wouldn't. But he dared not request it, even though it was killing him. He did not wish to risk the possibility of compromising their relationship, which meant far too much to him.

It was a long day, there being nothing of interest to him until the time he returned to the Opera House for that evening's performance. It was only minutes before the curtain would arise and to Erik's trained eye, the people backstage were in a much more frenzied scramble than usual. But why? Using his hidden passageways and peep holes he located the two managers, Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin, and listened to their desperate discussion.

"Wherever could she be?" Andre repeated for the umpteenth time. "She has never been this late before."

"What are we to do, we have no understudy to take her place! It will be a financial disaster if we cancel the show and are forced to return all the proceeds for tonight." Firmin exclaimed, running his hands nervously through his hair.

"And if we replace Carlotta with someone of lesser stature then the audience will demand a refund as well." Andre reasoned

"Either way, refunds cannot be avoided. But who can we acquire on such short notice? Who?" Monsieur Firmin moaned.

Erik's heart beat with excitement. Things could not have worked out better if he had planned it himself. He quickly devised a strategy.

Going backstage to where the dancers were warming up, he impatiently waited until Madame Giry was alone. He then, very softly so as no one else would hear, whispered his instructions.

"Madame Giry, I have a solution to our dear managers dilemma. Go quickly and inform them that they should allow Miss Daae to go on in Carlotta's place. She knows the part and I assure you that no one will be disappointed by her performance." Madame Giry seemed to hesitate, puzzled by the Phantom's request. Erik grew impatient and all but growled his next words. "Go now, before I become angry, my good woman! And believe me, I am not very pleasant when I am not obeyed."

This statement moved Madame Giry to action immediately and she went off to relay his message to the managers as fast as her legs could carry her.

Erik had no doubt that they would comply with his request, partly because he had complete confidence in Madame Giry's persuasive abilities, but also he knew that even though Andre and Firmin were never pleased by his frequent requests, they were far more afraid of risking his wrath if his orders were not obeyed. So confident of his plan, Erik returned to his hiding place behind Christine's mirror.

He didn't have to wait long, for just as he had expected, Christine came rushing into her room all flustered.

"Angel, Angel! Are you here? Please Angel!" She called frantically.

"Yes Christine, I am here." Erik answered.

"Oh Angel, what am I to do? They have asked me to take over for Carlotta tonight. She is mysteriously absent and they want me to perform. What should I do?" She pleaded.

"You will first calm down." Erik instructed. "Then you will quickly change your costume and go on." He made it all sound so simple, but Christine did not seem convinced. "This, my darling Christine, is the hour for which you worked so hard for. This shall be the night-when the world will discover in you that which I have always known. Tonight you will shine, my darling angel, tonight is for you."

"What if I fail?" She asked.

"You won't. I will be with you every second. Trust in your abilities…and me." Erik encouraged her.

"I do trust you, Angel, and I will not disappoint your faith in me." Her confidence was renewed by his words and she was now ready for the task that lay ahead.

"Good, now go and sing as I know only you can, my lady." Erik whispered as she left her room.

Erik then stationed himself in Box 5 and waited anxiously, out of sight, for the opera to begin.

When the announcement was made before the curtain rose that Christine Daae would be singing in Carlotta's place that night, a murmur of disappointment swept over the crowd. A few patrons devoted exclusively to Carlotta even got up and left. But from across the theater in Box 2 a young gentleman rose and began to applaud. This, Erik deduced, must be that boy Raoul, his rival for Christine's affection. He stared in envy of the man's proud and confident air, as well as his handsome face. How could Christine not help but be enamored of this suave young man? Erik had no way of competing with that, no way at all.

However as the curtain rose, all else was driven out of Erik's mind except Christine. When she entered the stage she was not accompanied by the reassuring applause that Carlotta would have received, but Erik could see the determination in her eyes and he knew that as soon as she sang the audience would not be able to withhold their displays of adoration for her talent. Erik was not wrong, for at the end of the first act Christine received a standing ovation, led on by Raoul who looked as though he would burst with pride.

But it was Erik who had the most to be proud of, for his Christine had stood tall and not let him down. It was all he had ever dreamed of for her and as the curtain fell at the finale of the opera, Erik felt tears of pride and happiness streaming down his face. In the past he had experienced tears of despair, tears of loneliness and even tears of hate, but he now knew what it meant to cry from pure joy and love. Yes, tonight's performance had been all he had hoped, for Christine as well as himself.

Erik exited the box as Christine gave her final bows amid the dozens of flowers the audience showered on her in gratitude. He arrived back behind her mirror in time to see one of the stagehands bring in an enormous bouquet of red roses and placed them on her desk. This caused Erik's excitement to have a twinge of disappointment. Here was someone else, more than likely the Vicomte, giving Christine the flowers he so longed to bestow upon her himself. His despair was quickly forgotten though when Christine entered her room minutes later.

"Angel!" She called, a joyous smile spreading across her face. "Angel, did you see? Did you hear?"

It gave Erik a moment of pleasure to see that her first thoughts were of him and not on the flowers she had received.

"Yes, my glorious Christine. The Angels wept with envy tonight over your performance. You sang as no one before you could and as no one hereafter shall." He stated. "And your magnificence went unnoticed by no one… including your gentleman friend, it would seem." Erik was reluctant to inform her.

"I sang for no one but you, dear Angel. For you alone every note issued forth. I owe everything I have become to you and my love and gratitude for your instruction is unending."

Erik closed his eyes and covered his aching heart with his hand. It was the first time she had used that word in speaking to him. How he had craved to hear it cross her lips. She had not actually said she loved him, per say, but it was the closest he had ever come to such an endearment. Was it truly possible to love someone so much and not die from such happiness?

"What more could I ever ask of you Christine? You have given me such joy." Erik sighed. "I almost hated to share your voice with the rest of Paris, but it was time."

"Time... Oh the time!" Christine started, looking to her clock on her dresser. "I told Raoul I would meet him in front of the Opera House as soon as I was done. I best change before he wonders where I am." She ran to her wardrobe and pulled out her best dress, for what else would one wear when dinning with a Vicomte.

Erik closed the sliding door and rested his head wearily against it. He was using all his restraint not to stop her from leaving. A minute or two passed and he heard her call. Opening the door he gazed longingly at the vision she portrayed.

"Yes Christine?"

"Thank you again. I can't believe my good fortune. First you, then the performance tonight and now dinner with Raoul. It all seems too good to be true." She leaned over her bouquet of roses and breathed deeply. Then plucking out a long stemmed bud, she bid her Angel goodnight and left, closing the door behind her.

Erik stood behind the mirror for a few seconds longer in the desperate hope that she would return, but his waiting was in vain… she did not come back. So with a heavy heart, Erik closed the door and began to make his way along the secret passageways to his dark and empty home.

We must stop here to explain something that is very crucial to the next scene, but we were unable to speak of it sooner due to the attention being focused on Christine and Erik. During Christine's triumphant performance, the curiously absent Carlotta had returned. And though she blamed her tardiness fervently on the Opera Ghost, who had so plagued her in the past, Erik was not to blame for this incident. It was nothing more ominous than a worn axle on her carriage that picked this ill-fated time to break. By the time her coachman had flagged down another one heading in the Opera's direction and got her there, Christine had already taken her place. The managers may have listened to her ranting about replacing her back into the play at the earliest convenience, but when Christine received her standing ovation after the first act, all thoughts of this were dismissed. Andre and Firmin realized what a jewel they had and were not about to switch things back.

They tried to placate Carlotta by promising to pay her for the night's performance as if she had gone on, but money was not the issue to Carlotta. She could see that Christine was outshining her, making all of the fans that were once solely Carlotta's, love her instead. For the wicked hearted Carlotta, this was too much. She would teach that snip of a girl to upstage her!

So during the rest of the opera, while Erik, Christine, Raoul and the managers went on unsuspectingly, Carlotta planned her revenge. She sent for the man that she had learned of from sinister acquaintances, and though he didn't come cheap, he assured her that he could get the job done efficiently and discreetly.

And this was the conversation that Erik happened upon as he walked through his secret passageways. He had been behind the wall of Carlotta's dressing room when he heard her voice. He usually tried to escape that hideous sound as quickly as possible but this time he stopped dead in his tracks. Carlotta had mentioned Christine's name, and being Carlotta, Erik knew it was not a good thing. So he listened further.

"Yes, I hear her coming down the hall." Carlotta said in a hushed whisper, obviously listening at her door. "She is to meet this Vicomte out front, so you take her out back. Do it quickly and quietly and be sure to take her handbag so it will look like a robbery. Any thief not knowing the truth could mistake her for a wealthy lady, after all she is a _famous_ opera singer now." Erik could hear the sarcasm and hatred in her voice and his hands itched to encircle her sickly pale throat. Here was this viper plotting to murder Christine. _His Christine_! He must stop this.

"All right, she is passed. Now hurry and try not to be seen by too many people or they may become suspicious." Erik heard Carlotta say, then the door to her dressing room opened and closed. The assassin had gone to his prey. Erik had no time to spare, and as he practically flew down the corridor Carlotta's evil laugh echoed behind him. He would return to her later, the loathsome hag, but now it was to Christine's aid he must go, before it was too late.

In the meantime Christine hummed a happy tune as she made her way through the Opera House to meet Raoul. She was totally oblivious of the danger the man skulking behind her posed. He had just felt it safe to make his move, to drag her unheard out the back doors to her death, when Meg Giry appeared out of nowhere and spoiled his plans.

"Oh Christine, your singing was divine! Why have you never sang that way before? Andre and Firmin would have surely featured you sooner if you had." Meg questioned, excitement for her friend bubbling over.

"My tutor instructed me not to reveal myself until the time was right. And tonight he said it was time." She explained.

"Tutor? What tutor?" Meg asked.

"The Angel of Music, of course." Christine confessed in a hushed whisper.

"Then it was his voice you heard in your sleep?!" Meg replied, her voice taking on a reverent tone. "Oh Christine, you must tell me everything, all that he said to you!"

"I will Meg, but it will have to wait. I am supposed to meet Raoul out at his carriage and I fear that I have delayed so long that he may have given up and left." She hugged her friend tightly, promising to see her as soon as she returned, then turned to go. She was halted by a voice calling her name behind her.

"Miss Daae. I am glad I caught you." The man who stepped out of the shadows said as he approached the two girls. "I was sent by the Vicomte de Chagny, to tell you of a change in plans. The crowd of people from the opera is so great out front that he fears you would be detained signing autographs till late in the evening and he wishes to share your time with no one tonight. So he bid me find you and escort you to the rear exit where he awaits with his carriage." He held out his arm to guide her to the supposedly awaiting Raoul.

"Your Raoul sounds so romantic, Christine." Meg gushed. "You must tell me all about him as well, when you get back."

"I promise." Christine called as she left with the man. It all sounded quite plausible and Christine had no reason to suspect this man of lying.

Back in the walls, Erik feared his progress was too slow. Even though there were endless passageways through the Opera House, they were like a maze. To get from one place to another was not as simple as walking a straight line. Christine and her soon to be assailant had the freedom to take a more direct approach than Erik. He was forced to circumnavigate around several rooms and hallways. He came to a particularly long hall where if he left the passageway and used it, it would shave at least a minute off his travel time. However, he also risked the chance of being seen by anyone using the passage as well. His decision took only seconds. A minute could either mean life or death for Christine. Erik chose the shorter, more dangerous rout without a second thought for his own safety.

Till the day they died the four dancers would rue their misfortunate decision of taking that particular hallway as they headed for their dressing rooms. The sight that Erik portrayed, his determined face (What they could see of it not hidden by the mask) and his black cape billowing out behind him as he ran towards them was enough to scare them to tears.

"Out of my way, you foolish girls!' Erik yelled, his voice echoing ominously as it bounced off the walls.

It was too much for the poor ballet dancers to take and all four girls fainted and fell to the floor. This did not upset Erik in the slightest, for it was much easier to step over the prone girls than to weave in between them should they have remained standing. His destination was clear, and by whatever means it took to arrive there in time, the ends would be justified.

Once at the end of the hallway, Erik slipped back into the walls by way of yet another secret door known only to him. This last passage would lead him to the back of the Opera House and hopefully to Christine's rescue.

It was about then that Raoul, having grown impatient for Christine to appear, had gone in search of her. He found his way backstage and began asking people if they had seen the young singer. It was Meg, who had joined the crowd after leaving Christine, that finally gave him an answer… but it was one that puzzled him.

"She has already left. She went out the back door with the Vicomte de Chagny's servant to meet him." Meg told him.

"Mademoiselle,_ I_ am the Vicomte, and I brought no servant with me this evening save for my carriage driver." He explained, figuring that Meg must have misunderstood.

"But sir, the man said that you had sent him and Christine went with him in this understanding." Fear began to show on Meg's face as the Vicomte looked frantically around the room. Spotting an opera guard he dragged him towards the back, explaining as they went. Meg and a few other cast members who had overheard the conversation followed close behind.

Christine and the man had emerged out the back door into the cool night. But to Christine's puzzlement there was no carriage waiting as he had told her there would be.

"Sir, where is Monsieur de Chagny?" She asked, misgivings beginning to flutter around in her mind.

"He is around this corner, Mademoiselle." The man assured her, taking her hand and leading her down the dark alley.

"You must be mistaken." Christine argued. "This leads to a dead end." She tried to turn back to the opera door, but the man tightened his grip on her hand.

"Come now, Miss Daae. You don't want to keep you lover waiting, do you?" His voice had turned from a gentle invitation to a cruel laugh.

Christine, realizing the deception he had played on her, began to become frightened and opened her mouth to scream. The man, knowing his business, anticipated her reaction and quickly stifled her cry with his rough hand.

"Now, now, my little song bird, you have done enough singing for one night." He gave another evil laugh. "Or should we say for one _lifetime_?"

Christine now fully realized her predicament. This man meant to kill her! But why, what had she done? The alleyway that he was dragging her down was long and deserted. At the end was a high brick wall and no doorways or windows in which she could summon anyone to her aid. She was completely alone.

They reached the end of the alley and the man flung her away from him towards the wall. It was all Christine could do to remain standing from the force of his shove, the rose she had been clutching fell forgotten to the ground.

"Please sir, I beg of you, don't do this. There are people who will come looking for me, my absence will not go unnoticed." She pleaded as she backed away from him, the unyielding stone wall blocking her escape.

"That may be so, but only your little friend knows that you are back here and she believes you to be safely in the arms of the Vicomte. So now when your death is discovered, the suspicion will fall on him." He pulled out a wickedly sharp dagger from his coat pocket and began to advance forward. "Scream now if you wish Mademoiselle, there is no one to hear you, no one at all."

No… there _was_ someone, Christine's frenzied mind reminded her. What had her Angel said? _`You have but to call and your Angel of Music will fly to your side.'_ His words echoed in her ears and she longed for his protective voice to come to her aid.

"Angel! Angel! Please help me. I need you!" She called out as clearly as her frightened voice would allow.

"Too late now." The man said as he raised his arm holding the dagger. Christine let out a piercing scream as she flung her arms up to shield herself from the blow.

But the man's arm never fell, for midway down it was stopped by a hand that appeared out of nowhere. Christine could see her rescuer only from behind as he struggled with her assailant. He was dressed in a long ebony cape and wore a gentleman's evening hat. She saw the desperation and horror on her assailant's face as the second man began to overpower him. He still refused to drop his dagger, though Christine was certain the pressure being applied to his wrist by the mysterious man was tremendous. In the end the second man terminated their struggle by driving the dagger home into her would-be murderer's thigh. He let out a cry of pain and stumbled back. He half crawled, half ran backwards down the alleyway trying his best to put some distance between himself and the advancing man. When out of desperation and sheer terror he spun around and hobbled away as quickly as his injured leg would carry him, the caped man stopped and turned back to Christine. The street lamp that shone over the wall was behind him, allowing her to see only his silhouette. But before he could advance forward enough for her to make out his features, she felt the harrowing experience of the last few minutes begin to take its toll. Sinking to the ground helplessly, she was able to utter one final word before darkness overtook her.

"Angel."

Erik rushed to Christine's side as she lay crumpled and lifeless on the ground and reaching down he checked her pulse. He felt his hand begin to shake as he touched her warm soft skin for the very first time. Oh it was sheer heaven, so delicate so perfect. Erik felt a fire begin to rise in his blood, anger and hatred washed over him for Carlotta and her henchman. It suddenly occurred to him that he had almost been too late, emerging from the hidden door in the wall just in time to hear her cry out to her Angel of Music. Calling out _to him,_ as the dagger had begun it's deadly decent. If he had delayed one second more it would now have been her lifeless body before him… for which all he could have done was mourn. But to his unparalleled joy and relief, she was not dead, just unconscious from fright. So gently, as though he were picking up a new born child, Erik lifted Christine, cradling her in his loving and protective arms.

"No one shall ever harm you again, my love. Your Angel has you now and he will never let you go." He whispered softly to her as he slipped back inside the wall. And as the secret door closed behind them it was as if they never existed.

Raoul, the guard and the following crowd had darted out the back door just in time to hear Christine's cry of terror from down the nearby alley. But as they rushed to her aid they were met by a terrified man stumbling towards them. He collapsed at their feet, clutching his wounded leg as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"That is him!" Meg shouted. "He is the one that took Christine." The crowd gathered around him as Raoul grabbed his shirt collar roughly.

"Where is Christine Daae?" He shouted harshly at the dazed man.

"He…he has her…that…that monster with the mask and dark cape!" He gasped between ragged breaths.

Dropping the man and instructing the guard to watch him, he continued to run up the alley, followed by a frantic Meg. When he reached the end he spun around in circles, his eyes darting everywhere as he called out Christine's name. When no answer came he began to turn back, figuring there must have been a passage he had missed. But Meg stopped him.

"Monsieur look!" She said, pointing to the ground at his feet. Raoul bent down on one knee and gently retrieved the rose that had fallen from Christine's hand.

"She had the rose with her when I last saw her. She had to have been here." She deduced, tears running down her cheeks from worry.

"But where could she have gone, certainly not over walls as high as these. And who is it that scoundrel back there spoke of? A monster in a mask and black cape?" Raoul asked, anxious for answers.

"It could only be one person sir, and that would also explain her magical disappearance." Meg informed him.

"Who is it... who?" The Vicomte pleaded, putting both hands on either side of Meg's shoulders and shaking her slightly.

"The Phantom, Monsieur. The Phantom of the Opera." Meg answered gravely.

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**Dun, dun, duuuuunnnnn! (pretend it is Belt saying that from the new movie 'The Croods')**

**So now Raoul is left with nothing but a rose, Erik has Christine and does not seem like he wants to let her go and poor Christine almost got murdered! What will happen next? **

**So… what do you think of Raoul now that he got lines?**

**What did you think of Erik's desperate rush to get to her in time?**

**What do you think he will do to Carlotta?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for reading – and reviewing – you have no idea how happy a review makes a writer! Now on with the story…**

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CHAPTER 4

_THE PHANTOM'S LAIR_

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Meanwhile, far below the Opera House, the cold catacombs were graced by beauty for the first time. Christine was as light as a feather in Erik's strong and capable arms, as he sure-footedly carried her down the hand hewn stone steps to the underground river where his boat lay waiting. He set her ever so gently down in the bow as he stepped in, and silently pushed the boat away from the shore. Erik propelled the small craft expertly through the tunnels and passageways with a long pole. The river was the only means of entering, or exiting his lair, and one who did not know the way could become endlessly lost in the labyrinth below the Opera House.

Ultimately, the river led into a lake, and the boat came to rest on the bank facing a magnificent chamber that had been built by Erik, incorporating the surrounding rocks as walls to his home. Retrieving Christine from the boat he crossed the smooth floor to a plush sofa in the left corner of the room near the fireplace. Arranging her comfortably amid the pillows, he removed his own ebony cape and lovingly, almost reverently covered her with it.

She began to stir slightly, her mind fighting to regain control, having passed out amid possible danger, but Erik wished for her to slumber yet a little while longer, so leaving her side he ascended the staircase at the other end of the room that lead to the open balcony of the second floor. A small alcove was carved in to the stone which housed a multitude of bottles, vials and beakers, serving as his laboratory. Choosing a small brown bottle and a cloth from his collection, he returned to Christine. Pouring some of the liquid on the cloth he held it close to Christine's face as she continued restlessly to fight against her unconsciousness, but after a few deep breaths in which she unavoidably inhaled the intoxicating aroma, she slipped into a deep and soothing sleep.

"Rest yet a while longer, my love, and know that you are safe with me." He rose to stand over her sleeping form, his face contorting with anger. "I have some unfinished business to attend to." With one final glance at his sleeping angel, Erik boarded his boat again and headed determinedly back up the river.

When at last Erik reached his destination, Carlotta's dressing room, and emerged from the shadows to stand amid the decadent and gaudy display of her own inflated material worth, he was overcome by a sense of regret that she was not present in order to receive the full force of his furious rage which was directed solely at her. Although he would have never caused her physical harm, no matter how much she deserved it, it would have given him immense pleasure to see her face as he put into words the disgust and loathing he held for her. But alas, he was pressed for time and would have to deliver his threats to her second hand. So, setting to work, he began his revenge.

Meanwhile, in the manager's office, all was astir. Everyone was speaking at once, making things next to impossible for the constable to keep the notes straight that he was attempting to take. Finally he threw up his hands in defeat.

"Monsieurs, please!" he shouted, causing everyone to stare at him in silence. "We will accomplish nothing unless you are able to remain calm. Now please start again," he said, but had to raise his hand once more as everyone again opened their mouths to speak. "Starting with you, Monsieur de Chagny."

One by one they each gave their statement, uninterrupted if not calmly, until the constable's note book was completely full. Flipping it closed with a sigh, he looked exasperatedly at the faces before him.

"So what you all are telling me is that Miss Daae was abducted by a ghost, this Phantom of the Opera?" he said, referring back to his notes.

"Yes!" Raoul, Andre and Firmin, Meg and Carlotta all said in unison.

"I see." He said again, giving another sigh.

"Sir, I know that it sounds odd, and I am not quite sure that I believe it all myself," Raoul told the confused officer, "but I do know that Christine is gone and everything concerning her disappearance points to this person that people around here choose to refer to as this Phantom. Be he Phantom or myth, I care not, so long as Christine is found safe and returned to me."

"We assure you Monsieur, he is no myth," Andre broke in. "He has haunted this Opera House for many years and though we do not expect someone of your lack of knowledge on this subject to understand, we would appreciate if you would trust us and not look at us as though we were raving lunatics. Welearned long ago that he is not someone to be trifled with. He knows and sees all that goes on around here and exacts his punishment accordingly."

"Forgive me Andre, I meant no disrespect. I am just overcome by this entire affair and I overreacted. Again, forgive me." Raoul apologized.

"We quite understand, and share your worry," Andre said, then turned to the constable. "What exactly are you planning to do about getting our Miss Daae back?"

"Nothing." he informed them.

"What?!" everyone shouted, everyone except Carlotta that is.

"There is nothing I can do. How does one begin looking for a Ghost? Do we case the graveyard or hold a séance here in the Opera House?" He folded his arms and shook his head. "I am completely open to suggestions if you have any."

All were quiet, no one spoke. Then Raoul came up with an idea.

"You could begin by questioning the scoundrel who lured her out of the Opera House on the pretense of meeting me," he suggested, "to see on whose orders this man was acting, and who he answers to."

"No!" Carlotta spoke up, causing everyone to look questioningly at her. "I mean, isn't it obvious who he is working for? The Phantom! He must have bewitched him, made him do his bidding while under his spell. If you were to question the man now, who knows what lies he may say if he isstill under the Phantom's power?"

"Whether this is so or not, I do plan on questioning the man once he has regained consciousness. The doctors say his loss of blood and fright has resulted in him lapsing into a coma and they do not know when he will come out of it." the constable informed them, much to Carlotta's relief.

"Well, sirs," she said, standing up and flipping her fur stole around her neck, "if you have no further need of me, I will take my leave of you. This has all been _very _draining and I must rest before tomorrow's performance. With Miss Daae missing, there is unfortunately no one to take my place should I be too tired to go on." With all the air of a queen, she flounced out, followed by Raoul's look of suspicion.

"If that is all there is to tell, I don't see why I would need any of you to remain further. I will take my notes back to headquarters and review the case there. All I can tell you now is to wait. Perhaps she will turn up on her own." He moved towards the door and was almost struck by it as Madame Giry entered quite hurriedly.

"Monsieur Andre, Monsieur Firmin, I have a note from _him_!" she exclaimed, waiving it in her hand.

"Let me see it!" they both shouted, each grabbing for it. After a brief struggle, Andre pulled it away from Firmin, and ripping it open to read it aloud.

_Dear Monsieurs,_

_ Do not fear for Miss Daae's safety. Her Angel of Music has her under his protective wing. If you ever wish for her to return, you must prove to me that her safety will be assured. You will do this by flushing out the murderous viper in your midst who is responsible for Christine's near disaster, from which I rescued her. Until then, be assured that she will be well cared for, and make no attempts to locate her for she is beyond yours…or anyone's reach._

_ Your obedient servant,_

_ O. G. _

Everyone was silent once again at the conclusion of this letter, stunned by its content. The constable was the first to break the spell.

"How did you acquire this letter Madame Giry?" he questioned her.

"In the usual manner that all the notes are passed to us by _him. He_ leaves them on the ledge in Box 5. I had checked the box earlier directly after tonight's performance to see if _he_ had attended. _He_ apparently had, and was quite pleased by it for _he_ left me 10 francs on the ledge, but I assure you this note was not present at that time. Minutes ago as I was walking down the hall I heard my name being called, and in following it I was lead to Box 5 and this awaiting note."

"What could this mean? What murderer in our midst?" Andre wondered aloud, rereading that part of the note.

"Who knows?" Firmin shrugged.

"The Phantom does," Meg assured them, "and you also know that if we do not solve this problem ourselves… the Phantom shall." She shuddered slightly. "And I would not wish to be in that person's shoes for anything."

All present who knew of the Ghost's history nodded their heads in agreement.

It was about this time that Carlotta had arrived back at her dressing room. Instead of swinging open as she turned the knob, her door stopped with a clunk. Puzzled, Carlotta put her shoulder against the door and pushed as hard as she could. The door slowly gave way to her efforts and opened, accompanied by the sound of something heavy scraping across the floor. As Carlotta turned up the gas lamp in her room, revealing everything before her, it was all she could do not to faint. She had been the unhappy victim of the Phantom's pranks before, but she could clearly see that this one was serious and of a personal nature.

Her room was in shambles. Her full length three way mirror was shattered, her clothes were ripped and flung about, her wallpaper sported a long deep gash in it, completely circling the room. Every one of her books, letters, notes and scripts were strung haphazardly around amid her furniture, of which every piece had been overturned. This included her dresser, which was what had been blocking her door. But what made her blood turn to ice was the knife that was deeply embedded in the portrait of herself that hung on the wall. It had been strategically placed between her eyes and supported a note that was addressed to her, written in red ink. She removed it with a hand that refused to quit shaking and read it.

_Carlotta,_

_ Do not think for one second that your evil plan has gone unnoticed by me. In the past I have been generous and given you plenty of warnings to leave, but to no avail. By plotting against Miss Daae and attempting to take her life you have caused me to devote my existence to your extermination should you not choose to heed my final warning and flee. If you ignore me further, there will be no one to blame but yourself for the consequences that shall follow._

_ Take heed,_

_ O.G._

Carlotta was almost in hystEriks as she ran frantically about her room, grabbing some of the things which were not totally destroyed and shoving them in a bag. When she saw nothing else worth taking she all but ran out of her dressing room and out of the Opera House…never to be seen or heard from again.

Hours later, deep below the ground, Christine opened her eyes to a sweet aroma tantalizing her senses. Looking beside her she saw the source, a perfect red rose lay on her pillow. Sitting up she picked the flower up and inhaled deeply, letting the familiar scent clear her thoughts. She reached down to remove the blanket covering her, only to discover that it was a man's evening cape. This realization brought back the flood of memories of her horrific ordeal. What had happened? The last thing she recalled was the flight of her assailant and the approach of her rescuer. Where was she now?

Looking around, she could make out only certain shapes in the darkness. The light that issued from the fireplace extended only so far, giving her a limited view. Christine stood up and began walking forward, realizing the massive shape that was to her immediate right was a large and beautiful piano. Each note that issued forth from an instrument such as this could only have been glorious. She reached out and touched the side of it, half expecting herself to still be dreaming, but she wasn't, it was hard and smooth to the touch, in no way imagined. Christine also became aware of the sound of water as if it were lapping upon the shore of a lake, but she dared not investigate too much further into the darkness, for who knew what may lay in wait for her there?

It was then that she noticed a small light glowing above her and as she walked towards it she could make out the shape of a man as he sat at a desk with his back turned to her. She soon came to a large staircase that apparently led to the other floor where the man sat, absorbed in his writing. His pen could be heard as it scratched across the paper, pausing every few seconds when he would be forced to dip it into the ink bottle to reload. He apparently was unaware that she had awakened for he didn't look up from his work until she spoke.

"Sir?" She called, her voice causing an eerie echo as it bounced off the walls.

She saw him stiffen as he sat back straight in his chair, then he reached over and doused the light that had illuminated his workspace. Only faintly could Christine see him as he stood and turned towards the head of the stairs. He was shrouded in darkness, and only when he was in motion was he at all discernible. Christine could feel her body tingling in fear and anticipation.

"Sir, what has happened, and to where have you brought me?" She asked, straining her eyes to try and make out this man in the darkness.

If only he would come a few more steps down into the light of the fireplace, she would be able to see him clearly. "Who are you, Sir? Are you friend or threat?" She asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Do not fear, Christine. I am he who can raise your voice to unimaginable heights." Erik answered, repeating the same words he had given her when she had before asked that question in her dressing room.

Christine's hand flew to her lips as his name escaped them.

"Angel!"

"Yes Christine, it is I, your Angel of Music," he answered.

"It _is_ you," she stated, recognizing his voice instantly, knowing that such velvet tones could emanate from one source alone: her Angel. But she couldn't understand why he didn't come down to her. "Angel, why do you remain concealed? Come down into the light so that I may look upon you. How long I have waited and desired for you to appear, so that I may see the one who has bestowed such kindnesses upon me." She took a step closer, a smile on her face. "When I called your name, I knew you would rescue me from that madman, and you did! Please my friend, my Angel, come down to me." She entreated him, grasping the rail of the staircase in joyous expectation.

"Flattering child," Erik sighed. "Yes, Christine I will reveal myself to you. But I fear you may not like the truth you seek." he warned her sadly as he slowly descended the staircase, letting the light inch its way up his body until it fell on his masked face, revealing all to Christine.

Again Christine's hand flew to her mouth, but this time out of fear. She took a step back as her mind tried to absorb the strange twist of fate set out before her.

"You, my Angel…are the Phantom?" she whispered, recognizing him from Meg's description.

Erik came down the stairs quickly until he was standing before the frightened girl.

"Christine..." he said, reaching out to her, but again she stepped back, shrinking from him. "Christine…please." Erik begged.

"What do you want with me? Have you rescued me from my assassin only that I should fall prey to a Phantom's deception? Meg was right… it was you all along that I heard in my room, not the Angel of Music." she said, tears of betrayal and fear welling up in her eyes. She sank to her knees on the floor, covering her face to avoid his haunting stare.

Oh how Erik ached to take her in his arms and soothe her fears with the kisses he longed so deeply to give, but to do so now would only invoke more terror, for all she truly knew of the Phantom was the rumors and lies she had been told at the Opera House. How could he regain her trust in him, if it wasn't already too late? Erik knelt down beside the weeping girl.

"No Christine, I am not this Angel your father promised to send you and I now regret ever leading you to believe that I was, but I am still he whom you called friend but seconds ago. Close your eyes if it pains you to look upon me, but listen to my voice. Listen and hear the truth behind my words, for you have never to fear me, my darling Christine." With that, Erik began to sing to her. His voice was soft and soothing as he sang for her the sweet melody that had accompanied her dreams many a night.

As his voice surrounded her, bouncing off the walls and returning again, Christine began to feel a warm sort of calm come over her. His words were lulling her into a blissful realm of half awareness, her mind floating along on the waves of his song. She ceased shaking and looked up at the man who sat beside her, and she was no longer afraid. He continued his song to its conclusion, letting it end in a whisper that could barely be heard as it evaporated into the darkness.

"Come, Christine." Very slowly, so as not to frighten her further, Erik extended his hand to her. He could see that it was shaking, fearing that she might not accept his offer, but to his joy she placed her small and delicate fingers in his palm as he helped her to rise. "Do not remain huddled in fear, arise and know that you are safe and protected with me." He led her over to the sofa once more, but instead of sitting beside her, he humbly went down on one knee at her feet. He was reluctant to break his contact, it having been so long desired, and he continued to cradle her hand in his. He took his other hand and very gently began to trace the back of her hand with his fingers, relishing the feeling of human contact at last. Oh how warm and soft her hand felt in his. She did not tremble, and she did not pull it away. With a surge of courage he slowly brought her hand up to his face and shutting his eyes for fear she might see his tears, he let the back of her hand brush for an instant against his exposed cheek. Oh the sheer ecstasy of it all. When he was once more able to compose himself he opened his eyes and tried to speak. "I am no ghost or apparition for you to fear Christine. I am nothing but a man who begs your forgiveness and only wishes that you allow him to continue serving you."

Christine now knew that he spoke the truth for she could feel the warmth of his hands and had touched his face, though it still remained half hidden from her. He was no magical specter who could cast a spell over her, and though his voice held her transfixed she experienced no dread because of it. He was right, no matter if he were called Angel or Phantom, she had always considered him her friend. Not to mention the fact that he had just rescued her from certain death. She could not allow him to continue to think she feared him.

"You have already aided me beyond all possibility of my ever repaying you. Not only did you save my life, but it is you who have inspired my voice, taught me things more grand than I could have imagined. And when I sing it is for you." she told him.

"And I can teach you so much more, Christine," He told her, his eyes pleading for her acceptance. "We can continue your lessons if you wish, for here in my kingdom I can teach you the music that is born of the night." With this he rose and turned around spreading out his arms as if to display the darkness to her. Here at that moment, Erik's two loves were present. Christine and the music that welled up in his soul, fighting to be set free.

"But the night is cold and frightening." Christine said, shivering at the thought of it.

"Darkness is such only to people who do not know what it holds. That is the essence of the fear of the unknown. But to me, darkness is my one true and constant companion." He turned and held out his hand to her as he began to speak, his words gradually turning into a song that he sang to her with immense feeling and emotion. As he sang Christine could almost hear music as it accompanied him, engulfing her as she rose and went to him. She listened, spellbound as he spun words of gold for her to hear, words about nighttime and darkness, of dreams and imagination. As he continued, Christine wasn't sure if the music she was hearing was coming from the walls around her or from her own swirling mind. Perhaps he was a Phantom after all, if he was able to conjure up melodies at his bidding. Christine reached her left hand slowly to his mask, wishing to see what it concealed, but Erik's hand stopped hers gently, bringing the back of it to rest once more against his exposed cheek. He closed his eyes, savoring her addictive touch as he continued his song.

His last words were a musical whisper that lulled Christine back into a peaceful slumber as he swept her up into his arms. He carried her to a door built into the stone wall, and pushing it open with his foot, he crossed the room and lay her on the awaiting bed. After removing her shoes and covering her with a satin comforter, he leaned down and stroked her long, chestnut hair as he watched it cascade over the pillow.

"Oh Christine…only you can make my song take flight ." he whispered, and leaving his sleeping angel, he exited the room quietly.

.

.

**Shhhhh, Christine is sleeping again. Erik does have that dreamy effect on girls…don't he?**

**So what did you think of Erik's revenge on Carlotta?**

**The Managers, Meg, Raoul and M. Giry's talk.**

**How Christine acted towards Erik when she found out who he was?**


	5. Chapter 5

**The next chapter is up! Hope you all enjoy it!**

Chapter 5

**_Angel or Phantom?_**

Christine awoke to the sound of a grandfather clock extolling the hour with its corresponding number of deep bongs. And though the clock told her the hour was near 12:00, she had no way of knowing whether it was in the afternoon or night, for there was no external light to help her decide. The room was well illuminated, though, with several candles lit and scattered around, and from the small amount of melted wax, she could see that they had not been burning long. Where was she now? Her last memory of the previous night was that of a man in a mask singing to her and filling her mind with wondrous and fanciful ideas. She couldn't recall when she had fallen back to sleep, but it was obvious that she had.

Getting up she spotted something draped over the foot of the bed and walking over she discovered that it was a beautiful gown; one more wonderfully exquisite than she had ever dreamed could possibly exist. Her own dress, she could see, had become somewhat torn and soiled from her near fatal experience in the dirty alley behind the Opera House. Seeing no reason to refuse such a thoughtful and practical gift, she took the dress behind a changing screen, which stood in the corner, and slipped it on. The fabric and stitching was of the finest quality, and the label inside boasted that it was a handmade original from one of the most famous dress shops in Paris. Who was this man who not only had such exquisite taste but knew her well enough to have chosen her exact size? The vague memories of the past night were coming back little by little. He was the Phantom…yet he wasn't. He sang like an angel, though he confessed his deception in portraying her Angel of Music. He claimed to be just a man, but he was obviously much more. Her mind was a whirl with unanswered questions.

Stepping out from behind the screen she looked around her room. It was indeed most interesting. The walls were covered with large thick curtains and decorated tapestries, concealing the cold stone behind them, all except for a small opening from which a curtain hung, pulled up and fastened on one side revealing a ladies' powder room. Stepping inside, she saw that it was furnished with all a woman could want or need to pamper herself, from a large porcelain bath to perfumed soaps, satin ribbons and lotions. But most curious was that amid these objects, she found her own hairbrush and comb from her dressing room. If this Phantom found her room so accessible to be able to retrieve her possessions for her, how often had he been in there in the past? She was not sure how she felt about this. Should she be afraid or somewhat flattered that he was so well acquainted with her needs and habits? She decided not to dwell on it at the moment, she still needed more answers before she could think of other things.

Picking up the brush, she ran it through her hair, attempting to make it behave, but in the end she brushed it to one side and tied it with one of the available ribbons. She would have to wash it soon, she thought, but shaking her head to regain her senses, she reminded herself that this was the least of her worries.

Exiting the powder room, she walked across towards the door. Something to the left of her caught her was a large object covered by a piece of cloth, and curiosity getting the better of her, she went over to remove it. It turned out to be a beautiful full length mirror, surrounded by intricately designed brass roses. Why had such a treasure been covered? But the answer quickly occurred to her. Had he not suggested the night before that she close her _eyes _if his appearance frightened her? Did he abhor his appearance so much that he took such precautions as this so as not to risk the possibility of seeing his own reflection? However, as she thought back, it hadn't been the _sight_ of him that had upset her so. It had been the realization of his true identity, that he was this mysterious man known as the Opera Ghost…not the mask. Yet why did he wear a mask? What was he hiding behind it? What cruel twist of fate had caused this man to seclude himself from the world, to shun all contact with the human race? The answers to her questions could only be given by the man himself, so, draping the cloth over the mirror once more, she headed for the door.

Erik had been up since early morning, anxiously waiting for Christine to awaken. At about 11:00 am he had dared enter her room and lit the candles so she would not be afraid when she awoke, for without artificial light, Erik's secret home was as dark as death. Although he had grown accustomed to such things, he did not feel Christine would appreciate it. She had looked so peaceful and innocent lying there as she slept that Erik had at once thought of the white dress, and wished to see her in it. He had had several dresses purchased for her through certain connections, as well as many other items for Christine, but as he extracted it from the closet he knew that this one was his favorite. Laying it on the foot of her bed, he left her alone once again.

He then tried to occupy his time by working on his opera. He abandoned his desk upstairs and opted to work at his piano, so he would be on hand should Christine wake and require him. So he would not awaken her, he didn't play what he would write; that could wait until later. His opera was not yet one third finished, for he had put it aside almost a year ago and hadn't returned to it until he had discovered Christine. As he had listened to her sing at each of their lessons, he had become intent on finishing it. He would write it for her and her alone, for only her voice could do his life's work justice. However, for the past week he had put it away again in order to work on his other project.

Erik had planned on one day revealing himself to Christine and asking her to come down and visit his abode, and to make her feel comfortable, he had completely redone his home. The room that once held his piano and writing desk he had painstakingly transformed into a magnificent chamber for Christine, making it all he had ever believed her small dressing room should have been. He had attended to every detail, planned for everything except one…that wretched boy, Raoul. When he had come into the picture, Erik had realized how absurd his idea of persuading Christine to join him had been. Only through those unexpected twists of fate was she here now, asleep in the room that he had lovingly created just for her. Shaking her from his thoughts, Erik once again leaned his forehead on the palm of his hand and propped his elbow up on the piano as he stared at the page he was working on.

It was this picture, a half distracted Phantom sitting at the piano with the cover down to serve as a writing table, that Christine saw as she quietly came out of her room. She closed the door loudly enough to attract his attention and stood cautiously by it with her hands behind her back.

Erik rose from his forgotten work and stood, his speech having abandoned him at the sight of her. He had imagined many times what she would have looked like in that dress, but none of his fantasies had done her justice. She was stunning. Remembering his manners, he place his arm at his waist and bowed to her.

"Good afternoon, my lady," he greeted her, noticing how she still remained a bit wary of him. "I trust you slept well."

"Yes," she assured him, coming towards him a few steps. His voice was once again having a calming effect on her. "I slept extremely well, in fact, the late hour of my arising giving evidence of that."

"It is quite understandable, considering all you have been through," he said. "Would you care for something to eat? You must be famished." He gestured to a rectangular table that sat in the corner just beyond the staircase. He had placed an abundance of candles around his home so she was able to see it unhindered by shadows, again realizing she was not used to such things as he. On the table, she saw several dome-covered plates waiting silently, inviting her with the pleasant aroma that emanated from them.

"Now that you mention it, I do realize that I am quite hungry," she confessed as she walked towards the table. Erik, arriving there before her, pulled out her chair and waited until she was comfortable before he unveiled the feast set before her. There were several different kinds of muffins and pastries accompanied by fresh fruit. She was then presented with her choice of ice cold milk, fresh squeezed orange juice or hot coffee, still warm in the pot. Christine was surprised at such a variety and was not sure where to begin. In the end, she chose a little of each and was not disappointed by a thing. During the meal she noticed that her companion ate very little, nibbling on a muffin as he sat opposite of her.

"Are you not hungry?" she asked, trying to begin a conversation to break the heavy silence.

"No, Mademoiselle. I ate earlier," he told her.

"I understand. You could hardly have been expected to wait on my unpredictable awakening. I hope I didn't inconvenience you bymaking you go to a lot of trouble on my account," she apologized.

"No, it was no trouble at all, I assure you. I…I prefer to eat alone anyway." He looked a bit uncomfortable, but continued. "This mask makes it a little hard to eat like a gentleman, the silverware always bumping into it and all. And so as not to frighten you, I will take all my meals in my room. But I do ask for the privilege of sitting with you as you dine, just to share your company."

"As you wish. I could hardly stop you, for after all, it is your house," she pointed out.

"Oh but you could, Christine, with only a word. I do not want you to be frightened or uncomfortable in any way, so during your stay you have but to request it and anything in my power shall be done for you," he told her.

"And how long will this stay last?" she asked, averting her eyes as she wrung her napkin in her lap, anxiously awaiting his answer.

"Please do not get the impression that you are being kept here as a prisoner," Erik told her quickly, wishing to quell any misunderstandings about the situation. "You are free to return any time you wish. But it was for your safety that I brought you here, and I would advise you to remain for a few days longer until the danger is past." He had every intention of showing her the way back to the surface that _very _second of she truly insisted on it, but oh how he yearned for her to want to stay. Not just to feel she had to…but to truly want to.

"My safety? But I thought you dispatched the man who threatened to kill me, there is no longer a reason to fear him, is there?" she asked.

"No, he will never harm you again. It is the one who employed him that still poses a threat," he explained, though he had his doubts about this after his visit to Carlotta's dressing room.

"Who?" Christine asked, her eyes suddenly wide with fear once more. "Who is it that I have somehow offended enough to wish to take my life?"

"Carlotta, for last night when you sang she saw her position was in grave jeopardy. In her twisted mind she deduced that the only way to ensure its safety was through your death. So, in fear that she may try to strike again, I brought you here for your protection. I feel it would be wise for you to stay until it is revealed what she has done and is dealt with."

"But how will they know it was her?" Christine asked, still shocked by this discovery. She had known that Carlotta was cruel, but she had never suspected she would have gone that far.

"I will see that she is flushed out. I have already given Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin the clues needed to deduce that it was her. Those two fools who run my theater would have to have brains made of straw if they are unable to put two and two together." Erik shook his head exasperatedly, wondering if he was yet putting too much faith in their abilities.

"What do they think happened to me? Do they know where I am, or do they fear me dead at the hands of the assassin?" Christine inquired, thinking also of how worried Raoul must be.

"They have been informed that you are safe and that you shall return when matters have been attended to." As if he could see into her mind, he added, "Your young gentleman was also present at the reading of my note, so he too was informed."

Christine looked at him, bewildered at how he read her so accurately.

But why shouldn't he? She had confided many of her secrets to him during his nightly visits. No matter how he appeared to her now, she still felt that strange bond of friendship and trust that they had formed.

"Thank you," she told him, "not only for risking your life to save mine, but also for teaching me your gifts of music, not mention my room and this dress. You are indeed most kind." A shy smile of gratitude spreading across her face.

An awkward silence followed, causing Christine to avert her eyes, glancing around.

"Now that I can see it better, you have quite an extraordinary place here," she told him.

"Thank you." Erik was pleased, he had never brought anyone down to his home before and he was eager to show it off. "Would you care for a tour? That is, ifyou are done eating."

"Yes, I am," she told him, removing her napkin from her lap and laying it beside her empty plate. "It was all delicious, and as for a tour, that sounds delightful."

Erik came around the table and offered her his hand. Tingles of excitement ran through him as she took it without hesitation. He showed her the second floor to begin with, full of pride when she marveled at his architecture. He had carved several rooms into the rock, which served as compartments for his possessions. One was his laboratory, where he had acquired the chloroform he had used the night before, and the second held his writing desk and papers, which had previously been in the room that was now Christine's. The third and fourth alcoves were completely covered with shelves, housing several hundred books. There were books about everything ranging from inventions to cooking.

"Feel free to browse through my library any time," Erik offered. "In fact, everything you see is at your disposal."

He then showed her the ground floor, drawing her attention to a small waterfall beneath the stairs by his kitchen area. The water came out of a hole in the side of the wall and tricked down into a small, round pool that he had hollowed out of the stone.

"The water here is safe to drink and quite cold. It then drains out through a hole in the bottom of the pool to mingle with that of the river," he explained, showing her why the pool never overflowed its rim.

"It must be convenient to live so close to your own private lake. When summer is at its hottest you can take a swim anytime you like," Christine said as she stepped away and headed to the water's edge. She remembered how wonderful it had been the summer she and her father had rented a house by the sea.

"Actually, it rarely ever gets hot down here. That is one of the advantages of living underground: you are not forced to endure the blistering heat of the summer months. As for swimming, the only time the water is fit for that is in the early summer, for this river originates from springs in the mountains. When it begins to snow up there, the water is like ice," he explained.

Christine knelt down by the bank and touched the water.

"You're right, it is freezing," she agreed. She then turned her attention from the lake to the piano as she walked towards it. "Where did this beautiful thing come from?" she asked, running her hand over the smooth wood grain.

"I discovered it in the vaults years ago. It was broken and damaged from years of neglect and abuse. I brought it down here and fixed it up, restoring it to its former grandeur." Erik recalled the months he had spent repairing it, knowing it had truly been a labor of love. He had always been good at fixing things, remembering the many times he had been punished as a child when he had taken apart his mother's clocks to see how they worked. The first few he tried to inspect never seemed to run as well after that, but he soon got the hang of it and quickly mastered the workings of such primitive devices. However, no matter how he had begged, his mother never allowed him to touch his father's pocket watch, a memento she treasured above all else. He had often wondered if she had originally planned on passing it on to him when he had come of age…but not now. Not to him. Erik shook his head, willing such unpleasant memories of the past to fade, focusing once again on the subject of the piano. "Its heart was still good and it has served me well these many years." He laughed slightly. "I doubt that the management even realized that they had an old piano which is now missing."

"Well, one could hardly call it missing, for isn't it still technically on the Opera House property?" she pointed out.

"That is true," he agreed with a nod of his head.

Christine walked over to the front of the piano and sat down on the bench. His papers were still sitting on the closed lid and she scanned them, recognizing that a lot of work had been put into the score of musical notes before her.

"What is this?" she asked, attempting to hum some of the notes.

Erik almost frantically, closed the book and held it to his chest protectively. "It...isn't finished," he said, a mixture of apology and embarrassment in his voice.

"What is it, though?" Christine asked again, her feelings not hurt, for she knew how personal composing could be to some.

"It is to be an opera titled Don Juan Triumphant," Erik answered, pleased at how she understood his reluctance to show it to her, and also in her continued interest. "It has been slow in coming until lately but I hope to have it completed within the year if I keep up with it**."**

**"**Is it to be a comedy, tragedy or a love story?" she asked.

"It is...a love story," he confessed, again becoming a bit embarrassed.

"I'm glad, I always did dislike sad operas. I hope you finish it soon, I would like to hear it performed on stage one day," she told him, her anticipation showing in her eyes.

"You will not only hear it Christine, you shall sing it," he said, staring at her with an unexpected look of adoration. "I am writing it for you, for your voice alone."

"I…I am flattered, Monsieur," Christine said, surprised at his words. No one had ever done anything so grand for her. "I only hope my voice is worthy of such an honor."

"I have no doubt that it is," he said without worry.

"Will you play me something from it sometime?" she asked hopefully. "I realize you aren't done and I don't expect an entire concerto. Perhaps just one song?"

Erik was a bit reluctant, but when she looked at him with her beautiful blue eyes shining like they were, he found it hard to deny her anything.

"Yes, I will have to polish one up first, maybe in a day or two," he said, setting his opera on top of the piano.

Christine raised the cover and ran her fingers over the keys.

"Will you play for me? I would love to hear how it sounds. Any song would be fine, even something short, like a lullaby." She scooted over to make room on the seat beside her.

Erik was delighted. To win the privilege of sitting beside her, he would have played for a year. Sitting down, he thought for a second, deciding on the perfect piece. He chose one he had written years ago but had never felt it was one that fit in his opera, so he hadn't worked on it further…in fact, it didn't even have words. But it was a pretty piece and as soon as he began to play it, he knew he had chosen correctly.

Sweet and lilting tones emanated from the piano as Erik's skilled fingers glided lovingly over the keys. The music was so moving that Christine closed her eyes so as not to rob her ears of one second by the distraction of sight. It was almost as if he had known what she had wanted to hear, how she had wanted the music to make her feel. He was not only a master composer but a gifted musician as well. Was there no end to this man's talent?

When the final note had echoed off into the darkness and all was silent once again, Christine reluctantly opened her eyes. When she turned towards him, Erik saw tears brimming in them, ready to fall.

"Forgive me," he begged. "I have made you sad."

"No, no," she quickly corrected him, blinking back the tears. "I am crying because it was so beautiful. It was as if your music moved right through me into my soul. No Monsieur, never once has your music ever made me sad," she assured him, as she felt one of her tears escape and slip down her cheek. .

Erik reached up and brushed it away. He had heard many women scream in fear, even saw them weep at the sight of him, and none more so than the mother he had fought so hard to please. But never before had a lady cried a single tear of joy for him…until now. Christine, the one woman in the entire world who could be his salvation. Dare he believe that she would be the one who could possibly love him?

"Sweet Christine, with this one tear you have done more to restore my faith in the human race than anyone I have ever met in my past. I pray that from this time forward you are blessed with only tears of happiness, not sorrow." Taking her hand he kissed the back of it, savoring the touch as it graced his lips.

"Monsieur, music such as yours should be shared with the world. The talent you possess should not be hidden away or secluded underground," she told him.

"Alas, that is not possible my lady," Erik said with a sigh of regret. "I would not be received well by the public I'm afraid. That which keeps me a prisoner here is also the reason my music would be rejected as well. I do not wear this mask for no reason, I assure you, I…I do so because my face is…too grotesque to look upon."

"I find that difficult to believe," she said, angry at the world that had so cruelly rejected him. "Besides, your mask hides nothing from me."

Erik's hand went unconsciously to his mask. Had it slipped, could she truly see what lay behind it?

Christine, realizing his fear, reached up and removed his hand.

"No, it is still in place, but neither it nor the walls of my dressing room are enough to hide you true self from me. I see you as you are inside, and nothing any mask could conceal would change that. You have been so kind to me, both as my Angel and as my protector." She hesitantly reached her hand towards his face. "Let me remove you mask and prove it to you." She offered, but again his hand stopped hers.

"No, Christine…please, no. Though I trust you with all my heart, it would destroy me. No one, not the strongest willed man or the gentlest of ladies has ever been able to look upon me without a gasp or hint of fear. To see that in your eyes, darling Christine, would be my undoing. Please, let things be and allow me to remain in my waking dream, for until now all that I am experiencing has been but a fantasy. Do not break the spell by asking me to remove my mask," he begged, taking both her hands in his in a pleading gesture.

"If that be your wish Monsieur, I give you my word that I shall never ask it again," she told him, pity and compassion threatening to break her heart.

"Thank you," he all but whispered over the lump of gratitude in his throat.

There was a minute of silence as they each looked into the others eyes, not knowing what to say next. It was Christine who first broke the stillness between them.

"Now will you continue the tour?" she suggested. "There is still one door you have yet to reveal what lies behind," she pointed out.

"Why there most certainly is," he agreed, his witty sense of humor quickly returning. "A pox upon me for overlooking my duties as a tour guide," he laughed as he, giving her his hand, escorted her across the room, "but I am afraid it is not very interesting. It is only my room, and the design is quite similar to yours in shape, if not furnishing; but if you wish to see it, it shall be so."

Opening the door, he crossed the dark room to a dresser nearby and struck a match, lighting some candles so that the room became illuminated. It was very much like her room as far as the layout went, just as he had said. Not so with the color scheme, for where hers was bright and warm, his was dark and foreboding.

"A dark room for dark thoughts, my lady," he explained, "for to sleep I am forced to remove my mask, and the cloak of darkness offers me a small measure of comfort."

Christine noticed that over his dresser a mirror had once hung, but it had long since been shattered, leaving only a few shards still in the frame distortedly reflecting whatever was put before them.

Erik noticed her stare and shrugged sadly.

"An _instant _where my anger got the better of me, I'm afraid," he explained. "I left it there as a reminder to myself that I will never lose control again." He said this almost as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her. His smile then returned to his face, his dark memory passed. "Everything I own I place at your disposal, and you may feel free to wander my home at will. However, because this is the only room I shall ever remove my mask, I ask your leave that you do not enter if the door is closed."

"I give you my word that I will respect your privacy, Monsieur," Christine promised, causing Erik to smile even more widely.

Having seen all there was to see, she allowed Erik to escort her out of his room.

"Is there anything else you wish to see or do now that our tour is complete?" he asked as they stood in the middle of the outer room.

"Well…I would love it if I could wash my hair," Christine said hopefully. "That alley way last night was not very clean and I would love to take advantage of that inviting bath in my room."

"And so you shall. But since it will take a little while to heat the water, are you up to a singing lesson to pass the time?" he offered.

"As my teacher commands, I obey," she told him, giving him a curtsy.

"Ah, but it is I who am your slave, my lady, eager to do all to please you," Erik corrected her.

"Then instead of singing today, teach me to play that song on the piano," she begged. "I have had some lessons as a child but I am quite rusty, so it may be a task beyond even your skills," she laughed.

"Then let us begin, for hours spent in defeat with you would be worth more than any victory with another," he told her, pleased to just be around her.

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**I know, kind of a strange place to stop, but the chapter was getting way out of control and I had to split it someplace. **

**So….how is Christine handling the situation?**

**How is Erik holding up?**

**Are they having a nice time together?**

**Please take a moment to review for me, especially if you have never reviewed before, I see a lot of new readers but do not hear from you as to what you like. I love writing back on reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the late posting time tonight – life keeps getting in the way. Enough said.**

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Chapter 6

Erik

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So after setting the water to boil in a large pot on the fireplace, they sat back down at the piano. In the time that followed, Erik found himself give way to laughter more times than he ever had in his life. It was a new and wondrous experience for him, to be so happy that all his troubles and worries seemed to vanish. Their laughter mingled together, gracing his home with the alien sound, as Christine attempted to follow his lead in plucking out the correct notes. He was pleased to see that she found only humor, not discouragement through trial and error. But by the time the large pot had begun to boil, telling them it was ready to use, Christine had learned the song fairly well. Although Erik told her she had done very good for a person who had not played in so long, Christine decided she would stick to singing and leave the music to him.

Erik carried the large pot to her bath and poured it in, adding another pot of cool water until it was the correct temperature. Seeing that she had all she needed, he bid her adieu and left her to her bath.

Again Erik was at a loss as to what to do while Christine was otherwise occupied. He felt such joy when he was with her that when she wasn't there, even if she was just in the other room, he felt an emptiness around him. He had to keep reminding himself that this newfound paradise was but a temporary thing. One day, and one day soon, she would leave him and return to her own life: one that did not revolve around him as his did around her. But maybe all was not lost, and she might be convinced to come back from time to time and visit. In his deepest, most secret dreams he wished for more, but if she would only consent to regular visits to brighten his lonely life, he would be satisfied…he would have to be. Erik would simply have to make sure that he didn't do anything to frighten her or, as his deepest fear, let her see his face.

Erik went to his cupboard by the pool of water and took out some bread, cheese and a bottle of wine he had been saving for quite a while. He had suggested that Christine come out by the fire to dry her hair when she was finished, so he spread a soft blanket in front of it and put the food, wine and two glasses on it. He then went around the room, putting out candles until only a few on the piano remained to mingle their light with that of the fireplace, creating a nice, warm-feeling area. Then, with nothing else to do once more, he set to work on his Opera again.

It didn't take Christine long, for though she would have liked to linger in the soothing tub a while longer, the water would soon grow cold and she wanted to be finished before then. The bath soap she had used had filled the small room with a pleasant odor that mixed nicely with the scented shampoo he had provided, leaving her hair clean and fresh. After drying off, she went to the dresser and found a variety of sleepwear to choose from. Selecting a long white gown with intricate lace around the collar and sleeves, she put it on and covered it with a long matching bed jacket. Her hair was still damp and the offer of a fire to dry it by sounded inviting. So, taking her towel, brush, and white ribbon, she headed towards her door.

Upon emerging she found her mystery man working once again on his beloved opera, perhaps choosing and polishing up the song he had promised to play for her. Christine found the soft lights from the candles and fireplace very pleasing and noticing the food he had spread out in front of it. She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

Erik, who had heard her enter, turned to see her smiling at his little endeavor. In that dressing gown with her hair still damp and falling over her shoulders she looked like a sweet, innocent child. Oh, what he wouldn't do to keep her like that forever; beautiful, happy…and always with him.

"I thought you might like a small snack before you turned in, seeing as how we had all but forgotten about dinner," he said, his hand gesturing towards the fireplace in an invitation. She walked over and Erik offered her his hand in assistance as she sat down on the blanket.

"This is a nice little picnic you planned here," she told him, setting her brush down beside her. "And best of all you fixed it so that there are no ants that typically accompany such an outing. However did you manage such a miraculous feet as that?" She laughed, causing Erik to laugh as well.

"I have no idea, it must be beginners' luck, for I have never been on a picnic before," he confessed as he knelt down and uncorked the bottle. "Would you care for a glass of wine?"

"Yes please," she said as she used her towel to dry her hair. She accepted the glass he offered her and took a sip, savoring the sweet, succulent taste of the excellent vintage. "This is very good." She complimented his choice, picking up a piece of cheese. "You have excellent tastes, not only in wine but also in clothes," she told him, indicating the beautiful dressing gown she wore. "Was all of this, the room, the clothes, for me? Or maybe they belonged to someone else…your wife perhaps?"

Erik gave her a smile of regret, finding the sad humor in her words.

"No Christine, they were meant for no one but you." He got up and walked over to the piano, setting his glass down and staring out into the darkness. "I have not had nor shall ever have a wife Christine. It is a realization I came to terms with quite early in my life."

"But why?" Christine asked, picking up her brush and running it through her hair as she watched him. "You have many qualities that a lady would find appealing."

Erik gave a pained laugh.

"And would I drag this prospective bride down here to this kingdom of darkness?" he suggested, opening his arms in a helpless gesture as he turned to face her. "Seclude her away with me here, never to see the light of day again?" He shook his head sadly, looking at the floor. "No, I would not ask anyone to share the life I have been forced to live."

"What about living elsewhere? I'm sure you could find other accommodations," she said.

"There is nowhere else for me. This place, the Opera House, suits my needs. Besides, what place could I go that this hideous face would not follow?" He touched his mask to emphasize his words. "No Christine. I would subject no kind lady to a life bound to me…and this."

"I…I am sorry you feel that way, Monsieur," Christine said, looking into the fire, away from the sad eyes that spoke with such resoluteness. Her heart went out to him, yearning to ease his pain and suffering.

Erik saw the look of pity in her eyes before she turned away. Though it touched his heart that she cared, he did not want her pity. Friendship yes, acceptance certainly, possibly even love, but not her pity. Erik took his glass and downed the contents in one swallow, then replaced it on the piano as he let his hand linger distractedly on the cold, smooth glass.

Christine looked back over at him, ready to speak a few words of encouragement to lighten his spirit, when she gave a cry of fright instead.

Erik's eyes flew to Christine, puzzled at her sudden outcry. What had caused her to react thusly? His mask had not fallen and neither had he said anything to excite her so. But nonetheless she had a look of sheer terror on her face and she was rising to her feet.

"Monsieur...Angel...!" she cried, stumbling over what to address him as. "Your arm!" She had picked up her damp towel and was now racing towards him.

Erik looked down at his right arm that had been touching the glass to see that his sleeve had come too close to one of the candles and had caught on fire. He could now feel the heat as it began to singe his flesh. Drawing it away he began to strike at it, doing little good, but Christine arrived at that second and quickly wrapped it up in her towel, causing the flames to go out immediately.

Both Erik and Christine gave a sigh of relief, the possible tragedy averted.

"Thank you Christine. Now it is I who is in your debt," Erik told her as he unwrapped the towel to look at the damage.

"Hardly," Christine laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call this a matter of life or death, especially with an entire lake at your disposal," she pointed out.

His sleeve was burned clear through and Christine could see a red spot forming on his middle arm just below the elbow.

"Come over here and sit down so I can look at this better," she told him, guiding him to the blanket by the fire. Unbuttoning his cuff, she rolled up his sleeve, exposing a nasty red burn. "This is bound to get painful," she told him. "We'd better get some medicine put on it right away."

"I have some ointment on the shelf upstairs," Erik told her, beginning to rise.

"No, you stay put and let me get it," she instructed, heading up the staircase to his little alcove. Finding what she needed, she returned to his side, ready to administer first aid. "Do you have a handkerchief?" she asked as she gently spread the salve over his burn.

Erik did not hear her question because he was far too focused on her administration of the ointment on his arm. Her fingers were causing more of a burning sensation that anything the pathetic flame had done. He stared directly at her, his eyes wide as she continued to rub gentle circles across his bare skin. No one had ever dared touch him like this before, and while he had savored the feel of her skin, it had always been at his instigation…this time she gave her touch willingly.

"Monsieur?" she said again, this time breaking him from his thoughts and gaining his attention. "Do you have a handkerchief?"

Still unable to tear his eyes from her he reached into his pocket with his free hand and handed it to her.

Christine folded the cloth diagonally and then wrapped it around the treated burn, noticing that it was almost too small to fit around his muscular arm.

"There," she said, sitting back to view her handiwork. "I, of course, am no doctor, but it will have to do."

Erik could only stare at Christine. Her concern had been genuine, her tender care almost loving, and her touch…sheer heaven.

"Thank…thank you again, I'm sure that it will be fine now." He looked back over at the candle that had been the cause and gave a weary shake of his head. "I would have noticed it sooner if it hadn't been for my mask. It is often difficult to see things to the right of me with it on." He shook his head, thinking how his face had yet again been the cause for his pain.

"I might have been able to warn you sooner as well, if it were not for the fact that I had to stop and think of what to call you. Here we have spent the entire day together and I don't even know your name. I suppose I still think of you as my Angel," she told him. "What do you prefer to be called? And please, do not say Phantom," she told him teasingly.

"If given a choice between Angel and Phantom, I too find I prefer Angel, for that name I was not given out of fear," he told her, returning her smile.

"But Angel is the name I gave to a bodiless voice I could only hear. It is certainly not a fitting name for the living, breathing man I see before me. By what name do you call yourself?" she asked.

Erik was quite stunned. Very few people in the world knew his name, mostly since hardly anyone ever cared to ask him. Yet here Christine was, asking him to reveal his personal name to her.

"Erik…my name is Erik," he answered, finding himself eager to hear her say it.

"Then if it pleases you, I shall call you Erik as well," she told him, his smile telling her all she needed to know.

With every word she spoke she was unknowingly gaining access to yet another piece of Erik's heart. Soon it would all be hers, and he would not regret the loss.

Christine unrolled his sleeve, careful of the bandage, and examined the burn hole in it.

"Though you deny yourself a wife, you are in definite need of someone to do some mending," she told him, standing up. "If you would go change and point me in the direction of a needle and thread, I will do my best to salvage your shirt for you, Erik."

Again Erik was stunned by her offer of kindness. His original plan had been to throw the shirt away. He certainly had plenty more just like it. He had always been slightly obsessed with his dress and grooming, figuring it was the one part of his appearance he could control, so the idea of wearing a mended shirt was not something he was thrilled about. However, if Christine was offering to do this act of kindness for him, he was most assuredly not going to try and talk her out of it. So Erik did indeed go change into a different shirt, and after some searching he was able to locate a small sewing kit with needle and thread. He sat beside her on the blanket in front of the fireplace and watched as she worked wonders mending his damaged sleeve. As he sat, transfixed by the picture she portrayed there by the flames, he let himself dare imagine that they were actually husband and wife, sitting by the hearth after a long day, exchanging pleasantries and looks of love. It was only a fantasy, Erik realized, but you could not condemn a man for dreaming...especially when dreams were all he had.

"Well that should do it," Christine said, bringing Erik out of his day dream. She held the shirt out to him for inspection. Taking it and examining the spot where the hole had been, Erik could barely tell there had ever been a burn there. "I had to take it in a little to cover the discoloration the burn caused, but I think that it won't be noticeable since the sleeves were somewhat lose to begin with. As long as you keep your jacket on, no one would ever notice."

"It looks perfect. You did a wonderful job," he complimented.

"I'm glad, for it would have been a shame to have had to throw out a perfectly good shirt," she said, getting up to put the sewing kit on the shelf by the stairs where she had seen him find it. But just before she reached it something small ran across the floor at her feet, causing her to give a startled cry.

Erik was at her side immediately, his hands protectively on her shoulders, but by this time Christine, having realized it had only been a mouse, was laughing at herself.

"Are you all right?" Erik asked, beginning to laugh with her.

"Yes, it was only a harmless mouse, but he did manage to startle me," she told him with a sheepish look.

"I'm afraid there isn't much to be done about them. Though I don't see very many, every once in a while they find their way here by walking on the small ledge along the river. You need never worry about anything larger ever coming here, for the ledge is narrow and unstable and mice are the only things that can safely fit on it," he assured her.

"Have you ever considered getting a cat? It could keep your place mouse-free, they like the dark and one would be good company," she told him, setting the sewing kit on the shelf. She turned back and could tell by the look on his face that the idea appealed to him.

"I will have to look into that," he agreed.

"Good. And now I think I shall turn in. I believe that I have had quite enough excitement for one day." She walked to her bedroom door, but then stopped and turned back to look at him. "Sleep well, Erik. Pleasant dreams," she said kindly as she closed the door behind her.

"If they are of you, dear Christine, they shall be pleasant indeed," he answered softly. Then he blew out the rest of the candles and retired for the night as well.

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**Ok, now hit that precious little review button down there and let me know what you all though…please. Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here is the next chapter…again, life got in the way and I was unable to post this morning like I wished to. Sorry.**

**My thanks to Kumon5 for her diligent corrections of my spelling and grammar…looks better right!?**

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CHAPTER 7  
_PAINFUL MEMORIES_

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The next day went much as the last, the two sharing a pleasant breakfast as they talked, laughed, and enjoyed each others company. They followed this with a singing lesson, and the surrounding stone walls to created wonderful acoustics, making the music all the more powerful. When they were done, Christine sat back on the sofa, an exhausted smile on her face.

"I almost didn't recognize my own voice," she said, looking around. "Every opera ever made should be sung down here. This place truly brings the music to life."

"It is not the place, Christine. It is you who gives life to the music…my music." Moving his hand quickly behind his back, he produced a single white rose, seemingly from out of nowhere.

Christine gave a gasp of delight and accepted the magical rose.

"How did you do that?" she asked, intrigued by his talent.

"Not by magic, I assure you," he laughed, not wishing her to revert back to the belief that he was some sort of Phantom. "Just a trick of the eyes, sleight of hand if you will." He reached out to her, pulling a coin from behind her ear, "Quite simple, actually," he said, enjoying the way she giggled at his trick.

"Well you have impressed me. What else can you do?" she asked, eager to see more.

Erik was more than happy to perform for her, dazzling her with each new illusion he demonstrated, and Christine was a wonderful audience, applauding each of his tricks, no matter how big or small. Erik completed his show with a low bow as Christine gave him a standing ovation.

"That was wonderful," she told him. "You could be a master magician."

"I don't know about that, but it is amusing, and it does come in handy when playing the part of the Opera Ghost." He laughed. "One never realizes when going through life what skills you may put to use in the future, including throwing one's voice."

"Can you do that as well?" she asked in amazement.

"Yes Christine, shall I demonstrate?" a voice seemed to say from behind her, causing her to spin around in search of the source. There was no one there. Turning back to Erik, she looked at him questioningly.

"I heard your voice behind me, but your lips didn't even move," she stated.

"That is the whole point of ventriloquism," his voice said again, but this time it seemed to have come from the left of her, by the fireplace.

Christine began to laugh, feeling quite foolish for expecting to see someone standing wherever Erik's voice would emanate. She then recalled Meg's story of her mother in Box 5.

"Is that how you were able to fool Madame Giry into believing an invisible ghost was occupying Box 5?" she asked.

"Yes." Erik laughed, his voice actually coming from him this time. "When people believe they have a ghost to blame for strange occurrences, it is quite easy to fool them. All thoughts of a reasonable explanation having completely left their minds. In fact, one time it came in handy in a small but quite effective comical prank I played on Carlotta."

"What did you do?" Christine asked, sitting back on the sofa, intent on hearing his story.

"Well, Carlotta always seemed to be picking on one person or another, throwing her weight around, so to speak. So I decided one day to teach her a lesson. She had been especially cruel to one of the dancers in rehearsal, calling her a little toad for accidentally bumping into her. During that evening's performance, I made her croak like a toad." Erik laughed, remembering the look of shock and horror on Carlotta's face when the croaking sound seemed to come from her own throat. "They had to cancel that night because she refused to return."

"Oh what I wouldn't have given to have seen that!" Christine laughed so hard her sides ached.

"But now that I have told you these things you must promise not to reveal my secrets when you return," he warned her. "My Phantom persona is the only thing keeping me from being discovered, and it is a role I have worked hard to perfect."

"I promise to tell no one, but it is quite a shame that I am the only one who knows the truth, who knows the real you." She wondered how she would be able to keep silent if someone were to speak disparagingly against her 'Phantom'.

"As long as you know, I am content," Erik told her.

"Where did you learn how to do all this?" she asked, sure that one didn't learn such things in school.

"The tricks, I acquired from a man in a traveling carnival. He was quite good, and in watching him carefully I learned his secrets. The art of throwing my voice I picked up from the ventriloquist that traveled with us," he explained, but a shadow seemed to cross his face and he looked away slightly. Christine didn't seem to notice, since she was so intent on learning more.

"You worked in a carnival?" she asked excitedly. "That sounds like such fun."

"No, Christine…it was not fun. It was anything but." Erik's voice grew cold, his eyes narrowed.

"Why?" she asked, puzzled by his change.

"Can't you guess?" he asked, his tone becoming harsh. When she continued to stare at him in bewilderment, his shoulders dropped. "No, your mind is too innocent. You are unable to perceive the cruelty of the world around you." He paused for another moment before he said in a very low and pained voice, "I was no employee of this traveling freak show… I was an exhibit."

Christine watched as his hands clenched into fists and his eyes filled with hate.

"I was nine years old and starving when I made the unfortunate mistake of trying to steal a loaf of bread from the wagon of a gypsy camp. I was young and foolish, and soon found myself their prisoner. In me, they saw great profit as a freak to shock the world. I was stripped of my mask as well as my dignity, then thrown into a cage and put on display for all the world gawk at...for a price." Erik turned away from Christine, placing both hands on the piano for support as he looked into the darkness, reliving his past in his mind. "For two years, they kept me either chained up or in a cage like some animal, and that was almost what I had become, a beast living only for the hope of revenge against those who dared treat me so. I listened, I watched, and I learned all I could as I planned my strategy carefully. Each night the voices of the taunting spectators echoed mercilessly in my ears, strengthening my resolve. When my chance came, I took the only option given to me…an escape provided by the point of a blade. I had wanted to kill them all, destroy the whole damn place, but when I was finally free of my bonds…I did nothing. I just left. I chose to show them the mercy they never gave me, and for the first time in years I felt the human side of me returning, something I had feared had been lost. I then roamed from place to place, country to country, searching in vain for somewhere I could belong. But everywhere I went, it was always the same. Fear and hatred seemed to greet me at every turn. So, I built this kingdom for myself and came down here, away from all other people. Here, no one could ever put me on display or lock me in a cage again, and I swore that I would die before I ever allowed that to happen again."

Christine could hear the pain etched in his words, and they seared her heart like a hot iron. Her hand covered her mouth as she closed her eyes, trying to block out the suffering and humiliation he had been put through. How could anyone have been so cruel? How could he have survived such a life? Opening her eyes,she saw that he was still facing the lake, but his head was lowered, his shoulders slumped in defeat. It had taken a lot out of him to tell her this, to expose such raw emotions that, evidently, were still terribly painful. Christine walked over to him and gently put her hand on his shoulder, compelling him to turn towards her. In his usually tender and affectionate eyes, she could see the traces of shame and helplessness staring back at her.

Feeling her own eyes cloud with tears, her heart went out to him. Moving closer, she tentatively reached her arms around him and embraced him tightly.

"Dear, dear Erik. What kind of life have you known? I can only imagine the atrocities you have suffered at the hands of the cruel people of this world...yet through it all, your heart has remained ever warm and gentle." She pulled away slightly to look at him, and seeing a tear slide down his cheek, she reached up and wiped it away. "You are no animal, no beast, for I could not care for you the way I do if you were. I only wish I knew of some way to purge your mind of this haunting pain that possesses you, to ease your suffering and convince you that you are not alone." With her words catching in her throat, she pulled him close once again, placing her cheek against his chest as her hands stroked his back comfortingly.

At first, Erik stood stock still. Such a compassionate gesture as this was completely alien to him. No one had ever held him so, never dared to come this close, but here was Christine, the woman he loved more intensely than words could describe, embracing him of her own free will. Erik was on an emotional roller coaster. He had relived his pain, expecting her to shun him, only to be rewarded with ecstasy. Her words had reached his dark and lonely soul, moving him to tears. As she took him in her arms the second time, he felt his own reach out shakily, daring to hold her as she held him. His touch was timid and unsure at first, but then, overcome by his longing for human contact, he embraced her fiercely. As they stood there, he, letting his long-denied emotions surface, Christine continued to hold him and whispered soothing words of comfort.

They remained this way for a long time, clinging to each other, daring the insensitive world to intrude on their tender scene. Then, slowly, Erik released her from his arms, pulling her back to stand before him. His now steady hand reached out to touch her velvet hair, to trace the lines of her cheek.

"You are indeed the kindest and gentlest of ladies, darling Christine. No one has ever graced me with such words of compassion as you just have. I now know that all I have endured has not been in vain. You are truly the angel here, an angel of mercy to a pitiful creature of darkness such as I," he said, his unbounded love for her welling up inside him.

"Do not mistake my actions for those given strictly out of pity. Though I deeply regret how you have been treated, my reaction was such as to be given to a dear and cherished friend who has been unjustly wronged," she told him.

Erik's eyes grew troubled as he turned and walked a few steps away from her.

"And what of your young suitor, your childhood friend...Raoul?" he asked, the name of that infernal boy coating his lips like arsenic. "Where does he fit into this picture? He will undoubtedly be waiting for you at your return, and I hardly think he will understand your entertaining such feelings of friendship for a Phantom."

"Raoul has no hold over me, nor does he have any power to tell me whom I choose to keep as a friend. We played as children and exchanged only a few words as adults. I am a grown woman now, able to make my own decisions. That is how it will be, with me doing the choosing. If I wish to keep you as my friend, Raoul can do nothing to stop me," she assured him, her face then breaking into a pleasant smile once again. Christine walked forward and straightened the lapels of his jacket, which had been messed up in their embrace. "Now enough of such foolish talk. Let's continue our day and concentrate on happier matters. What shall we do next?"

"Well," Erik began, always impressed at how Christine could turn his mood around with only a smile. "Other than an errand I must go on later this afternoon, I am completely at your disposal."

"What kind of errand?" she asked.

"I must go up to the Opera House. I am due to pick up my monthly salary, which our good managers Andre and Firmin quite grudgingly agreed to pay. I must also check on the situation with Carlotta, see if they have taken my advice and dealt with her accordingly." He looked over at the clock by the stairs, calculating as to when would be the best time to go. Just before a performance was when everyone was paying the least amount of attention to anything he might be doing, so he thought around 6:00pm would be the perfect time. "I would ask you to come with me, but there is not a lot of room in most of the secret passages around the Opera, and I need to go quickly," he explained.

"That is quite all right. I can find something to occupy my time here. Actually, I would love to browse your extensive library upstairs, and today would be a good time to do it," she told him.

When 6:00pm neared, Erik left in his boat, waving farewell to Christine as she started up the stairs to his library. The second he disappeared through the dark tunnels, Christine reversed her course and set to work on what she had been planning all day to surprise him.

While she worked, Christine pondered her feelings for Erik. The bond of friendship she had formed with him as her Angel was still there, stronger than ever, but she knew that there was now a new feeling making its presence known. Though he concealed his face from her with a mask, she knew the man behind it. His words and actions betrayed him far too well, revealing all she needed to know. Could she be possibly be developing true feelings for him? Or were her emotions just a result of pity, as Erik believed? Christine didn't think so, for when she'd held him in her arms earlier and he had touched her cheek, she had been overcome with a sense of wonderment she had never felt before. She was crossing into territory where she had never tread. Until now, music had been her life, but in essence…Erik was music. His voice and songs had become part of her forever, etched in her mind and heart. What if she did care for him…possibly even loved him? Then what? Erik had such a low opinion of himself that he might reject her for fear she only pity him. She would have to test her theory carefully, convince _herself_ first so she could in turn assure him. This would be her her resolve for the evening, as she continued with her surprise, to determine exactly what her feelings were.

Erik had made his way to Box 5 and picked up the envelope that contained his pay from the ledge where it waited. He had then gone to the manager's office and listened to the goings on from behind the walls.

"I refuse to wait any longer! This ghost of your has gone too far!" Erik heard the voice of Raoul say, quite angrily.

"But Monsieur, what can be done? We can only wait," Andre told the unsettled Vicomte.

"Believe me, we are just as worried as you, for with Miss Daae missing and Carlotta gone, we have no diva for our Opera," Firmin added.

"To hell with your opera! What about Miss Daae? She could be in grave danger, her virtue…her very life. I do not buy for one second all this poppycock about a Phantom, a ghost. She has been abducted, and if you will do nothing to find her, I will! I will turn this Opera House upside down until she is found. And if she is harmed in the slightest way, this Phantom of yours shall feel my wrath, be he man or ghost!" Raoul's threatening words were followed by the sound of a door slamming, indicating to Erik that he had left.

Erik found that he had to admire Raoul…jut a little. Although he was destined to be an obstacle in his affections for Christine, the young pup had spirit. Still, no matter how much admiration he felt for him, he was not going to let him get in the way of his pursuit of her. Christine would be his and he would fight to keep her. His thoughts were interrupted as Andre and Firmin continued their conversation.

"This is damnable!" Andre shouted. "How are we expected to run a business with all these unending trials?"

"Andre, please don't shout, it will accomplish nothing but give you a hoarse voice and indigestion." _Not to mention make me deaf_, Firmin thought.

"Just look at these headlines!" Andre continued in an irate voice as he picked up a newspaper from his desk and waved it at Firmin. "'Mystery after gala night!' it says. 'Huge mystery surrounds the Paris Opera House as managers are baffled by one diva's flight and the other's disappearance,'" Andre read aloud before tearing up the paper in frustration. "It even has the gall to say that we suspect foul play." He gave a heavy sigh and sank down into his chair. "I only pray that they don't discover the truth. We wouldn't be able to give tickets away if they knew our resident ghost was abducting people at will now. Such a scandal would ruin us!"

"I do have to admit that this is quite inconvenient of him to put us on the spot like this," Firmin said thoughtfully.

"Damn inconsiderate of him if you ask me. He is quite abusing our position, and yet he still expects us to pay him. I have received two more resignations this morning from cast members who are too afraid to continue working here. If they all walk out there will be no proceeds from which to deduct his 'salary'." Andre rubbed his tired eyes with his hand, fighting off the headache that was threatening to make its presence known. "If things continue as they are, we shall be bankrupt within the month. If Miss Daae doesn't turn up soon to lure the crowds in, we will have to close the doors for good. We have done all that the Phantom asked. Carlotta is gone, and as soon as that villain in the hospital is strong enough he shall be carted off to jail. Why does he delay? What could his motive be?"

Erik knew they were right, he should return Christine to her old life tonight, but he couldn't bring himself to even think of it. Why? Quite plainly, his motivation was love for Christine and the hope that in time she could come to love him. He just needed more time…_she_ needed more time.

"Maybe we should consider hiring a new singer," Firmin suggested.

"What? Where are we going to find someone who sings as divinely as Miss Daae?" Andre asked in a shocked voice.

"Not to replace her, for heaven's sake man, that would be insane!" Firmin corrected. "Just until she returns, otherwise we may not be open when she does come back."

"_If _she comes back," Andre said in a worried voice.

Erik had heard all he needed to. It was clear as to what had to be done. Though it pained him immensely, he resolved to return Christine the following day. Her career was in jeopardy, as well as Erik's life, for if the Opera House closed there would be no more music…and no more Christine. Erik could not deprive her of her new-found glory, for once one has touched heaven, as he had with Christine, it is hard to live without it.

So, after taking care of one last errand, Erik made his way back down the tunnels to his beloved Christine.

Raoul stormed down the hall of the Opera House, still furious at the two managers. How could they take such a helpless attitude where this Phantom was concerned? Maybe they had been scared into submission over the years, but not him. Raoul saw his duty clearly: he had to find some way to save Christine. Save her from the clutches of some madman masquerading as a ghost. He owed it to her dead father, he owed it to their childhood friendship, and he owed it to Christine. He was so intent on his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the quiet voice calling him from behind.

"Monsieur?" the voice said, causing Raoul to pause and turn.

"Oh, Meg. Forgive me, I was deep in thought." He came back to the petite dancer. "What may I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you have received any word from Christine?" Her sad eyes betrayed her worries.

"No, I have heard nothing," Raoul said, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall. "I am at my wit's end. If I had a name or a face to identify, I would have the entire police force on this villain's trail...but no one will take this Phantom seriously. I feel as though I am failing her, abandoning her to this madman who apparently has full reign over her destiny."

"Please do not berate yourself so," Meg said, putting her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "You are doing all you can, and I know that Christine will appreciate you for it, but Mother says that she feels Christine is in no danger. She knows the most about the Phantom, and she says he is nothing if not honorable."

"Didn't you hear what he did to Carlotta's dressing room? Everything was destroyed, and there was a dagger thrust in the portrait of her, right between the eyes! As for the note he left, I can see why Carlotta did not remain long. This is not the work of someone completely stable. He is a time bomb set to explode, and I just pray that Christine is nowhere near when the fuse is lit." He ran his hand through his hair in desperation.

"Please, Monsieur, remember that it was Carlotta who tried to kill Christine. Wouldn't you have acted the same way given the chance?" Meg asked.

"Possibly, but I care very deeply for Christine," Raoul stated.

"Then who is to say that he doesn't?" she pointed out. "After all, if the Phantom is the one who has been teaching Christine under the guise of her Angel of Music, they may have even become close. Christine is very easy to like, and from the evidence of his note, the Phantom has taken on a particularly protective nature where she is concerned."

"This is possible," Raoul said, standing up straighter as he considered her words. "It is also very bad. For if he is enamored with her and she were to spurn his advances, who knows how he may act, what revenge he may take out on her." He grabbed Meg's hands and held them tightly. "You must help me, Meg. You must be brave and assist me in my search. Please Meg, do it for Christine," he pleaded.

"Of course, Monsieur, I will do all I can," She looked around quickly, then continued in a whisper. "Come here tomorrow and we can begin our search. Joseph Buquet may be of some help as well, he knows things others don't."

"Thank you, dear Meg!" Raoul said, kissing her on the cheek. "Christine will thank you for this, as do I." With that, he hurried off, his hopes renewed.

Meg just stood in the hall and watched him depart, reaching up to gently touch the cheek he had just a regretful sigh, she turned to go as well.

.

.

**Ohhh, the plot thickens…. **

**What do you think about Raoul being on the hunt and Meg is helping him.**

**Erik's revealing his past like he did?**

**What do you think Erik's last errand was?**

**What do you think Christine's surprise is?**

**Do you think he will take her back tomorrow?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here we go….more fun with Erik and Christine. I hope you all do not think this is moving too fast…but the story is not a long one so we can't stand on ceremony here and have them take FOREVER to figure things out. Let's just pretend they both know their own mind and know what they want in life….well we KNOW that Erik knows what he wants, we are just all waiting on Christine. Ha ha.**

**Also, I have written in a song in this chapter, not what you might think though – hope you like how I used it. **

Chapter 8

_A PICNIC UNDER THE STARS_

Christine had finished her work in no time and had indeed selected a book from Erik's library, which she was reading when he returned.

"I trust you were not board or lonely while I was gone?" He asked as he tied the boat so it would not drift away.

"Not at all, I found quite a bit to occupy my time. Though I am glad you are back," she said, excitement showing on her face.

"Oh, and why is that?" Erik asked, enjoying how nice it felt to actually be missed.

"Because I have a surprise for you," Christine told him, smiling at her secret.

"I too have a surprise for you, my sly Christine," he told her. "Please, let me show you mine first, for I fear it will not remain concealed much longer."

"What is it?" She asked, her curiosity peeked.

Erik reached inside his cape and carefully took out an adorable black kitten.

"Ohhh!" Christine cooed, reaching out for the small ball of fur "It is so adorable." As she took it in her arms it began to purr.

"I decided to take your advice and get something in which to control the mice. I recalled that an alley cat near the Opera House had had a litter about two months ago. When I saw this little fellow here..." he said scratching it under its chin. "I knew he would fit right in."

"What will you name him?" She asked, cuddling it to her cheek.

"I had considered _Midnight_ taking into account his coloring. What do you think?" Erik found himself a little jealous at the precious attention the cat was receiving from Christine.

"I think it is a wonderful name. How do you like your new home Midnight?" She asked the kitten as she put him down, watching as he explored his surroundings curiously.

"He of course will have to grow some before he will be able to pose a threat to any rodents, but in time he will be an excellent mouser." Erik reasoned.

"But in the meantime you better keep an eye on him for fear a rat may carry him away as a quick meal." Christine laughed, causing Erik to join in.

"What was the surprise you had mentioned for me?" Erik asked, a few minutes later. He had tried his best to be patient, waiting to ask so as not to seem to eager. However, the mere idea that Christine did something for him as a surprise was beyond exciting. He had never received a surprise before…at least not one he wished for.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Christine smiled, her excitement returning. "Close your eyes," she instructed, going to the cupboard by the wall. "And no peeking!" She looked to see that he had indeed shut his eyes as he was told, then extracted her surprise and walked aback over to him.

"Can I look now?" He asked, sensing her return. Standing there quite vulnerable with his eyes shut was going against so many of his inbred instincts, but for Christine he forced himself to comply.

"Yes, open your eyes." She told him.

Erik saw her standing before him holding a blanket and a covered wicker basket.

"What is this?" He asked.

"A picnic," she explained. "Last night you said you had never been on a real one, so tonight we shall dine on a blanket out of a basket." Before he could come up with any excuses she added. "I also made all finger foods so no utensils are required. We may also have it wherever you wish, right here in front of the fire again or any place you choose."

"I see that you have thought of everything," Erik complimented. "I think I do have the perfect place for such a lovely idea, but we must wait until sunset to go there. That is if you don't mind dining under the stars instead of the sun."

"It sounds divine," she assured him.

"Then it is settled, in an hours' time we shall be seated under a blanket of stars, with moonlight shining down upon us," he said, daring to reach out and touch a wisp of her hair that lay on her shoulder, as he remained transfixed by her eyes. "That of course does leave an hour, what do you wish to do in the meantime?" He asked, always eager to please her.

"You still have yet to play me a piece from your opera as you said you would," she pointed out flirtatiously. "You did promise, remember."

"Yes Christine, I remember. I shall not go back on my word," he walked to his room to retrieve his Libretto where he had been working on it the previous night, carefully stepping over Midnight as the kitten crossed to the other side of the room to explore further. Coming back he sat at the piano, signaling Christine to join him.

"The piece I chose is a duet between the hero and heroine, so you must accompany me," he told her, selecting the page and handing it to her. He had long ago committed his part to memory.

"Isn't Don Juan that scandalous lover who seduces any maiden who catches his eye?" Christine asked, a devious gleam in her eye as she scanned the page.

"Yes, but here he had met the one woman he knows he must possess forever," Erik's gaze lay heavily on Christine as he said this, his words thick with double meaning. Snapping out of his trance, he continued. "Don Juan is pledging his love to the fair Aminta. She, the daughter of a rich lord, is being forced to marry a man of her father's choosing, a man she detests. So Don Juan is in essence saving her from a fate worse than death, encouraging her to abandon her father's wishes and run away with him."

"Will she go?" Christine asked, eager to know if they lived happily ever after.

"I do not know. As I said it is not yet finished. Whether or not they eventually unite will depend on the mood I am in when I reach the conclusion."

"Well, I hope you are in a good mood, for I do so love happy endings." Christine told him.

Erik moved his hands nervously over the keys, getting the feel of the notes.

"Now I hope you are not expecting too much. Please remember that it is unfinished, unpolished," he seemed afraid, embarrassed to play it for her. For it is said that the hardest thing to write about is something you have not experienced yourself, and except for from books and his own dreams, knowledge of love and romance was something Erik was lacking in.

"I am sure it will be wonderful." Christine assured him, her smile giving him the confidence he needed.

So Erik began, the music once again filling the room and setting Christine's senses a-whirl. And as Erik began to sing, his gaze turned to her, his eyes holding her transfixed as his voice all but hypnotized her.

_"No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyes fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you._

_Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you to guard you and to guide you..."_

When Erik paused slightly nodding to Christine, it took her a second to realize that this was her cue to sing Aminta's part. And though she had thought she might stumble over the words, having not had much time to look it over, they flowed out of her like words from her own heart…and perhaps they were.

_"Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime... Say you need me with you, now and always... promise me that all you say is true that's all I ask of you..."_

Erik was so taken by her voice and how wonderful his words sounded coming from her lips that he could feel his heart racing. He was finding such joy from this duet that he wondered why he had been hesitant to have shared it with her earlier. Knowing it was his turn he quickly composed himself and began to sing.

_"Let me be your shelter, let me be your light. You're safe:_

_No one will find you , your fears are far behind you..."_

_"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night... and you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me..." _Christine continued.

_"Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime... let me lead you from your solitude... Say you need me with you here, beside you... anywhere you go, let me go too Christine, that's all I ask of you..."_

The song had escalated, carried on by Erik's emotions. And he was unable to catch himself in time before he inadvertently replaced Christine's name with that of Aminta's, but she did not seem to notice. That or she didn't mind, so Erik too ignored his slip of the tongue as they continued on with Christine beginning the next stanza.

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime... say the word_

_and I will follow you..."_

_"Share each day with me, each night, each morning..." _Their voices mingled together.

_"Say you love me..." _Christine sang alone.

_"You know I do..." _Erik's words echoing his own true feelings.

_"Love me that's all I ask of you..." _Once more the two sang in unison.

When there was a pause in the words, leaving a space of grand music that Erik played almost passionately, Christine moved closer to him on the seat until they were almost touching. She gazed at him, transfixed by his music, until he turned to her as they sang the last few heartfelt words of the two lovers.

_"Anywhere you go let me go too... Love me , that's all I ask of you." _

As the final note dissipated, leaving only silence, Christine could hardly find the words to describe her feelings.

"Oh Erik…that was…more than beautiful, more than glorious. This will be the opera to end all operas. There will not be a single audience member who isn't moved to tears by such words of love. You are truly a master of music."

"As I said, you Christine are my inspiration. This opera is for you, only your voice is fitting for the role of Aminta," he told her turning his eyes from her to the pages of music before him.

"Then finish it, for to hear the entire score would make me happy beyond words. For each note is a part of you, dearest Erik, and with each one I feel I know you better."

"Yes, I am the music, and in giving it to you, I make a gift of myself. I am completely in your hands, to do with as you will," he said, his offered heart exposed to her, open for her to either embrace or cruelly reject.

"If that be the case… then I believe that I shall take you on a picnic!" She laughed, squeezing his hands in hers as she rose, pulling him up with her. "I have to go change and then we will go." She told him, backing away towards the door, never taking her eyes off of him.

Erik was unsure. Though she had not made any confession of love, neither had she rebuffed him. In a small way he had gained some ground. Dare he continue?

He too changed into a warmer outfit as he contemplated this. And when he came out he found Christine waiting patiently, the basket and blanket in her hands. She had changed into a dark blue dress and black hooded cloak, ready for the journey that awaited them. As he walked towards her she signaled for him to be quiet, pointing to the kitten that had curled on the sofa and was now sound asleep. So with a smile Erik untied the boat then offered her his hand, assisting her as she stepped aboard. No words were exchanged as they glided down the river through the secret caverns, but their side glances and shy smiles spoke volumes.

Presently Erik veered the craft to the bank on the opposite side of the river, looping the rope around a rock as she disembarked.

"This is as far as we go by boat." He informed her, placing his hands on her waist as he lifted her out onto the shore. "From here we will walk, but I must ask a favor of you," he looked down at the ground, reluctant to speak. "Though I trust you implicitly with all my secrets, I beg that you allow me to blindfold you for the final stretch of the way. I know that you would never intentionally give away the location of my sanctuary, but there are those who may trick you into revealing it. So if you know nothing they cannot hold you responsible for you silence." Erik removed his silk scarf from around the collar of his jacket he wore under his cloak. "Please Christine..." he asked, holding it out to her.

Christine smiled understandingly and stood up strait with her eyes closed.

"Be my guest," she offered.

Erik came around behind her and gently covered her eyes with his scarf, but before he brought it around to tie it in the back he leaned forward.

"Thank you Christine," he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine. How could just the sound of this voice have such an effect on her?

Erik retrieved the basket from Christine and took her hand in his other.

"I will guide your every step, you shall not stumble or fall Christine, I promise. Do you trust me?" He asked.

"With all my heart," she answered, squeezing hand as she began to follow his lead up the tunnel, a gradual slope in the upward direction becoming apparent.

They went along like this for a few minutes, Christine noticing many turns and twists in their trek. Even without a blindfold she doubted she would have ever been able to find her way back. Finally they stopped, Erik telling her to stand still for just a second. Christine then heard a scrapping sound above her, like stone against stone. He then took her hand again, warning her that they were about to walk up a few steps. When they had reached the top the sliding sound happened again, this time the sound seemed to be bouncing off walls. She figured they were insome sort of small building or cave, for though they had left the tunnels, she could not feel the night air around her. When the sound had stopped he again led her across the floor and out what sounded like a creaking medal door. Once outside they walked a short distance before Erik halted.

"We are here," he said, reaching up to remove her blindfold. "You may look now."

Christine blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to her surroundings. When her eyes focused she saw that they were standing beside a large brick wall under an archway also made of stone. In front of her was a beautiful lake, the moon and stars reflecting on the glassy water. To their immediate left was a large granite bench with a sculpture of a child with wings standing above it. In front of that was a large oak tree, its branches reaching out over the water somewhat. Turning around she looked to see where they had just come from, a little surprised to see that through the archway they were standing in, was a grave yard.

"I regret to have brought you to such an unsettling place." Erik apologized, seeing her expression. "However this is the only place I know of that no one would come at night."

"Don't misunderstand my surprise for disdain," she assured him. "It was just unexpected is all. I am not superstitious or freighted of graveyard ghosts," she gave a sly smile. "In fact until you came along I have never believed in ghosts at all." Her smile remained as she walked over to the bench and spread the blanket out beside it.

Erik followed with the basket, shaking his head and chuckling softly at her jest. Soon they had everything set up, Christine kneeling by the basket removing the last of the items. Erik reclined beside her, propped up on his right elbow as he watched her.

"I even packed that bottle of wine that was left over from the other night," she was saying, Erik not really listening to her words, only her voice and enjoying her company. If someone had told him a month ago that he would be setting here, beside a beautiful woman as she smiled fondly at him, Erik would have laughed in their face. Yet, it wasn't a fantasy, no waking dream…it was real. Erik intended to savor every second, his decision to return her the following day ever nagging at him in the back of his mind.

"Is something wrong?" He heard her ask, his mind returning from his thoughts.

"No, nothing. Why?" He asked.

"Your expression changed all of a sudden, as if you were remembering something sad," she told him.

"Just a passing thought, but it is gone now," he said, smiling back reassuringly.

"I'm glad, for tonight I insist on only pleasant thoughts," she rose and walked a few steps towards the lake. "It is a beautiful place, the stars reflect like diamonds on the water. Oh, look..." she said, indicating to the tree. "It is a sweetheart tree. There are all sorts of initials carved on it," she began to read some of them out loud to Erik, laughing at one that seemed to sport several sets, each followed by a different girls initials. "This gentleman seems to get around quite a bit."

"Have you ever allowed a sweetheart of yours to carve your name on such a tree?" Erik asked, curious as to whether there may be other suitors hidden in her past other than Raoul.

"Oh no." Christine answered. "I never had time for any gentleman callers. Raoul was the closest I had ever come to having a beau and we were

only children," she gave Erik a shy side glance. "Although, I can't say that I am totally opposed to the idea."

Erik stared at her questioningly. Was she inviting him to carve their initials on the tree, or just wishing out loud that Raoul have done so years ago? Erik was unsure, but he dared not let the chance escape him. Rising to his feet he pulled a wickedly sharp blade from a hidden spot on her person, as he walked over to where Christine stood by the tree.

"And whose initials would you wish to be engrave amid this vast number of historic lovers?" He inquired, his voice low and seductive.

"Well..." she began, feigning deep thought, tapping her finger on her chin. "Mine would be nice."

"Accompanied by whose?" Erik asked, his heart racing in anticipation.

Christine looked into his eyes, her mind realizing what her heart already knew.

"Yours," she whispered back.

Erik reached out and touched her cheek as Christine closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

"Your wish is my command." Erik said, turning towards the tree, his blade ready to do her bidding. As he carved he moved in-between his work and Christine.

"Let me see." She laughed, trying to peek around him to watch. "When I am finished," he scolded playfully. "Now go stand over there

and be patient."

Christine obeyed, gazing out at the lake as Erik continued to carve behind her.

"Are you done yet, my master engraver?" She called.

"Almost, my impatient one," he answered back, laughing quietly.

A minute later Christine heard him call her back. She turned to see him leaning against the tree with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. As she neared he stepped aside, allowing her to view his masterpiece. Christine reached out, tracing the letters with her fingers. It read E.O.G loves C.D, encircled by a heart.

"O.G.?" Christine asked, puzzled by the letters, but before he could explain, the answer came to her. "Oh, _Opera Ghost_," she laughed.

"So how does it feel to be immortalized in wood?" Erik asked. To him, the fact that she gave her consent to putting her initials on the tree meant almost as much as if she had put them on a marriage certificate.

"It feels wonderful," she told him, taking his hand and leading him back to the blanket. "You honor me with such a gesture."

"The honor was all mine I assure you." Erik said, kissing the back of her hand before he assisted her in sitting down.

They sat together and ate, talking and laughing about nothing and everything, just as Erik had always imagined two lovers would. He wished that the world would stop, hold this moment for all eternity, so he could savor this feeling which he never dreamed he would be blessed with. Though it seemed like only minutes, the hours flew by. They had ate all the food, drank all the wine and exhausted nearly every subject they could think of, but they were reluctant to leave.

"Is this a place you come to often?" Christine asked, as she began to pack up the basket.

"When the mood strikes me," Erik answered, leaning on his elbow as he looked out at the lake. "The water is very inspiring on a moonlit night, and sometimes I sit on the bench for hours just listening to the wind as it blows through the trees," Erik turned his head and pointed at the angel sculpture. "I even named my little friend here. I call him Pierre, and though he is not much of a conversationalist, he is a very good listener. In the daylight a lot of lovers will sit on this bench, stealing a kiss whenever they think no one is watching, but little Pierre here sees all." Erik too had watched people pass by the park from his hiding place, and he had often wondered what his life would have been like had he not been cursed so at birth. Would he be happily wed to a beautiful lady such as Christine, would he have been blessed with children, would he have been the one steeling kisses in the park? He had rewrote his life so often in his mind that he could scarcely count the number, but at that moment he felt no such desire to do so. He was here with Christine and in the last few days she had given him a lifetime of joy. He would not trade places with another man at this second for anything.

Christine had taken advantage of Erik's silence to do some thinking of her own. Her eyes came to focus on his lips. His perfect and seductive lips. Lips that knew so little of smiling but were so eager to learn. She leaned forward, close to Erik, her hand reaching out to touch the side of his face.

"Seeing as how Pierre is used to such displays of affection, I don't suppose he would be shocked then if I do this," she whispered, and bridging the last few inches that separated them, Christine brought her lips down upon his, both experiencing the new and wonderful sensation together.

At first Erik was completely taken by surprise, barely daring to believe the precious gift she was now bestowing upon him. His arms were as lead weights unable to move and his heart had all but stopped. He felt her warm lips touching his, but he was unable to answer her tender offer.

Christine was confused, Erik did not respond. In fact he wasn't moving at all. Had she been wrong? Had she misread the situation and was now making a complete idiot of herself? She pulled back slightly, trying to find a clue in his eyes.

"I…I'm sorry," she stammered, looking away in embarrassment "I have acted presumptuously."

Erik came back to his senses at her words and reached out to her, his hand gently turning her face back to him.

"No Christine, what you did was anything but wrong." This time it was Erik who pulled her to him, rising on his knees as he held her in his arms, savoring the passion that the kiss had ignited. She was his now, freely and completely. There was no more reason to hold his feelings for her in check. He had neither forced her or pressured her, she had been the one to make the first move, and now as he held his dreams in his arms, he knew that she would always be a part of him. He could never let her go.

Every one of Christine's senses were alive, burning with an inward fire. Before her was a man like no other she had ever known. Though he concealed his face from her, shrouding himself in constant mystery, he

had far surpassed any of her expectations in kindness, devotion and passion. She knew him to be a good and gentle man, one who had already risked his own life to protect hers. The few times they had touched before she had felt that odd sensation in the pit of her stomach, one she now realized to have been the beginnings of love. Now as he held her, their heated kiss full of unspoken promises, Christine knew that while she had no idea where this was all leading, she was eager to take the next tentative steps with Erik to find out.

What happened next came as a surprise to both of them. If they hadn't been so wrapped up in the moment they may have noticed the dark thunder clouds rolling in and the heavy raindrops that began to fall quite suddenly took them completely by, surprise.

Erik and Christine looked up at the sky as the cool rain began to drench them, and as their eyes met once more they both began to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Though neither wished to leave and break their tender moment, sitting in the rain was not a wise idea. The cloak Christine wore was designed to keep out the cold, not the rain and she could already begin to feel the water soaking through.

Still laughing they finished gathering up their picnic and ran towards the stone archway that entered into the graveyard. There under the shelter Christine halted.

"Don't stop now," Erik urged her, taking her hand. "The tunnels are close by, we will be undercover in just a few seconds."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She asked, reaching up to slip his scarf from around his neck. "If we go any further like this, I will know the way."

"As ever my lady, you are correct," Erik said, admiration shining in his eyes. He took the scarf and once again covered her eyes, reaching around to tie it in the back. Yet, instead of leaving as he had formally suggested, Erik let his hands come back around, cupping her face gently as his lips once again searched out hers.

"Monsieur," Christine giggled, sensing his intentions. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage. I am unable to see in which to defend myself."

"Sight is highly overrated," Erik told her, his voice low and husky. "There is much more to be said for the sense of touch." This time the kiss they shared was long and deep, the wind that blew around them fanning a fire that no rain storm could extinguish.

Finally a bolt of lightning striking the ground somewhere in the distance broke the spell of the two lovers, causing Christine to jump at the noise.

"We better go," Erik said, picking up the basket. "You are becoming soaked out here."

"You are not exactly dry yourself," she laughed, having felt the water dripping from this hair when she had held him.

"Then let's make a final run for it." Erik encouraged her, leading them back the way they had come earlier. It was to a mausoleum that he took her, ushering her inside as he closed the heavy doors behind them shutting out the wind and rain. He then turned a candle holder fixed on the wall, causing the large tomb to move aside revealing a hole in the floor with steps leading back down into the tunnel. When they had at last made it back to the boat and Erik removed Christine's blindfold he noticed that she was shaking. Unbuttoning her cloak he tossed it into the boat. Then removing his own he draped it around her shoulders, securing it snugly in the front.

"Take mine, it is more rain proof than yours and it stayed dryer. It may offer some comfort on the trip home," he told her as he helped her into the boat.

"But what about you?" Christine protested, not wishing for him to be cold as well.

"I am far more used to the chill of these caves than you, and as ever, your comfort and safety are my highest priority. Now stay bundled up, we will be home shortly." Erik instructed as he propelled the boat efficiently up the river.

_Home_…Christine thought to herself. Could she ever think of Erik's place as home? A soft smile came to her lips as she recalled the old saying…_'home is where the heart is'_.

.

.

**Ok, there might be the strings of love there…pretty sure. So what did you think of:**

**The kitten?**

**Her surprise?**

**The song they shared?**

**How he led her to the lake?**

**Their pick nick – the tree – the kiss?**

**Think he is gunna send her back now?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Well, here come the 'hystEriks'…**

CHAPTER 9

_THROUGH THE SHATTERED LOOKING GLASS_

It wasn't long before Christine could see the glow from the candles as they neared his home, and soon they were standing at the edge of the lake as Erik tied the boat securely to its dock.

"Go and change quickly Christine, before you catch your death," he told her.

"I guess a picnic wasn't exactly the best of ideas for tonight," Christine laughed as she turned to go.

"No Christine," Erik disagreed, stopping her as he gazed down at her, his hands caressing her shoulders. "Tonight is a night I shall never forget. What you have given me is a gift beyond repaying. If I were to die tonight, I would go to my grave a happy man." He kissed her forehead and smiled. "Now go change. I will be in later to bid you goodnight."

Erik watched her go, memorizing her every move, filing them away with all the other memories of her that he now held so dear. He then went to his own room, stripping off his own wet clothes and replacing them with fresh dry ones. When he was finished he walked over to his dresser and bending down he opened the bottom drawer extracting a small box. It was long and thin and made of wood that looked as though it has seen a lot of wear and tear. Erik held it in his hands, running his fingers over the smooth wood, then grasping it resolutely he walked towards his door.

Christine had also changed, slipping into a cozy nightgown. She was attempting to take some of the moisture out of her hair with a towel when she heard a knock at her door.

"Come in," she called, turning to see Erik enter.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked. "No persisting chills I hope."

"No, I am quite fine," she assured him, touched by his concern.

"Good." He told her, finding himself feeling a bit awkward, not knowing quite what to say. It was difficult always wanting to be near her yet ending up tongue tied in her presence. It didn't help that she looked so beautiful standing there, making no special effort, but still devastating his senses.

"Christine," he began, looking down at his hands, hoping it would be easier not looking at her. "I have something I would like to give you and I hope you will accept it." He held out the box to her.

Christine could tell that this was very important to Erik from the way he had held the box, turning it over and over in his hands nervously. She didn't know what it held but it was apparently something very precious to him.

Laying the towel down on the bed she stepped forward, accepting the box he offered. Slowly she opened it to see inside, looking up at Erik in surprise as she viewed the contents. Inside the velvet lined box was a golden chain with a single tear drop diamond attached, but what really made her eyes open wide was the fact that the flawless diamond was the size of a cherry pit.

"Oh Erik, this is too much. I can't accept this, it must be priceless!" she protested, holding it back-out for him to take.

"No Christine, I want you to have it. Would you please do me the honor of accepting it… of wearing it for me?"

Christine looked from Erik's eyes to the necklace. How could she refuse such a plea, or such a gift. Taking it out of the box she handed it to him.

"Will you put it on me?" she asked.

Erik came around her, slipping it around her neck as she held her hair aside. It took him a little bit to fasten it, him laughing at himself as he fumbled slightly.

"The clasp it a bit tricky," he warned her as he completed the

task.

Christine walked over to the mirror, and removing the cover looked at her reflection, touching the beautiful necklace as it sparkled in the candlelight.

"It is beautiful Erik," She said, watching him approach her in the mirror until he stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. She sadly noted that while his eyes went immediately settled on her and the necklace, when his own reflection came into his view he turned away, not wishing to see his own image at all.

Many times in the past Erik had asked himself why on earth he had kept such a frivolous thing as that necklace. He certainly had never believed he would ever have anyone to give it to, but he had kept it anyway. It had been payment for a unique piece of architecture he had designed many years ago in his past, and though he had originally meant to sell it, something had stopped him. Some small voice inside of him would not let himself part with it…and now he knew why.

"It is just a cold stone, you are the one who gives it life and meaning," It wasn't the only thing either, she had also given him meaning and in turn life.

" I will treasure it forever," Christine assured him as she turned to face him.

"Thank you Christine," Erik said, taking her hands in his and kissing them softly. "Now sleep, my darling, and perhaps save a dream for me." He turned to go after one last lingering look at her delicate face, but he was halted at the door by her voice.

"Erik," she called, coming over to him. "In all the excitement of tonight I forgot to ask what you had discovered when you went up to the Opera House. Did they find out it was Carlotta who tried to have me killed?"

Erik could feel the icy hands of fear gripping his heart. What should he do? If he told her the truth he risked the chance of losing her, yet it pained him to lie when she had come to trust him so. He also recalled the decision he had made earlier about returning her, but that was before. Before she had let him hold her, before she had kissed him. How could he let her go now, it would be a wound he could not bear. So in the end, a lie seemed the less painful…if not the wisest.

"No, there is still danger should you return," he failed to mention that the danger was for him, not her. "A few more days and things should be cleared up." Possibly in a few more days she would not _wish_ to return. "Will you consent to remaining with me yet a little longer, Christine?"

"Of course, dear Erik. I will do as you think best. I trust your judgment," she answered, her smile of faith like a knife through his deceptive heart.

"Then good night," he told her quickly, wishing to escape her eyes that looked so innocently at him, not realizing his deceit.

Once out, Erik leaned back against her door and closed his eyes.

He had lied to her once, pretending to be her Angel of Music, and it had almost cost him her trust. Now here he was yet again deceiving the woman he loved, and purely for his own selfish reasons, but he could not stand the thought of her leaving and forcing him to return to the life he hand known before. He just couldn't!

To keep his mind off of his troubles he sat in a chair in front of the fireplace and tried to work on his opera. Something brushed against his leg catching his attention and looking down he saw that it was the kitten, Midnight. Scooping it up he held it on his lap and stroked his soft fur.

"I am in quite a fix Midnight. I sure wish you could talk in order to give me some advice. Although I have some idea of what you might say, but I can't bring myself to do it," he gave a heavy sigh. "Just a few more days, that is all I ask. A few more days can't mean a lot to her life, but it could mean everything to mine." He continued to work on his Opera long into the night, Midnight softly purring as he lay curled up on his lap.

Christine was awoken in the middle of the night by a nagging thirst. She thought it ironic, seeing as how they had tried so hard to avoid water in the form of rain earlier. Lighting a candle she walked to her door, slipping her robe around her as she went. To her surprise there were still some candles lit outside her door, making the small one she held obsolete. Christine walked over to the waterfall and getting a glass she took a long drink, quenching her thirst. It was only when she was returning to her room did she notice the reason all of the candles were still lit. Erik had fallen asleep in his chair where he had apparently been working. Midnight opened one eye, gazing at Christine from his place on Erik's lap, but made no effort to rise. Christine smiled fondly at the picture they presented and walked quietly over to them. Erik's papers sat precariously on the arm of the chair, ready to fall at any second should either of them move the slightest bit, so Christine took them off and laid them down beside the chair, careful not to let them rustle together and create a noise.

However, when she looked back up, a thought came to her. Here was a perfect opportunity to see what lay behind Erik's mask. To see what it was that he dreaded so fiercely that she see. Dare she risk a peek? What if he awoke, her betrayal of the promise she had given would be quite evident. Though she hungered to learn all his secrets, she decided the price for her curiosity would be too high. She now realized just how very deeply she cared for Erik and she would not treat him so dishonestly. She would let him keep his secrets and allow him to reveal them at his choosing. So instead of unmasking him as her hand still wished to do, she instead retrieved a blanket from the sofa and gently covered him with it. Then with a feather-light kiss on his brow she returned to her room.

Erik opened his eyes when he was sure that she had indeed gone back in her room. He had been awake and aware of her the second she had stepped out of her room, and with his eyes open just a crack, he had watched her. He could read her thoughts clearly as she had lingered there, knelt before him, and his hand had stood ever ready to stop her had her curiosity gotten the better of her. However, he needn't have worried, for she had proven true to her word and left him his secrets. She was truly a remarkable lady, and it was with this thought that he went to his room to continue his sleep.

The next morning Christine awoke feeling refreshed and full of excitement. From now on each day she would wake knowing she was a woman in love, and she was loved in return. She reached up and touched the necklace she still wore and smiled at the meaning it held. Hopping out of bed she hummed a happy tune while she got washed and got dressed, hardly able to wait to see him and spend the day under his loving gaze.

Christine was checking her hair in the mirror before she went out when she gave a gasp of horror. Her necklace was gone! It had been there just seconds ago, but it was now no longer hanging around her neck. She shook the folds of her dress, thinking maybe it had fallen and had clung to her, but to no avail. She then began to retrace her steps, ending up back at her bed where she distinctly remembered having it. A frantic search of the covers revealed nothing, leaving Christine at her wits end. It was then that she spotted an intruder in her room, Midnight was sitting over by her dresser playing with something.

"How did you get in here?" Christine asked, still a bit distracted by her loss. A quick glance at her door revealed that it was open a bit, she must not have closed it very well the previous night in her attempts to be quiet. As she looked again at the kitten her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you have there?" she asked, walking over to him, but at her approach Midnight, feeling in a rather playful mood, picked up his new found toy in his mouth and scampered across her room. Christine could now see clearly what he held and it was defiantly her precious necklace.

"Come here, you little thief!" Christine hissed as she raced after him. This only added fuel to the fire, for Midnight thought this game was fun. He ran back out her door, with Christine hot on his heels.

Christine was becoming concerned. What if that little scamp accidentally dropped it in the lake or ruined it somehow. In the short time since Erik had given it to her the necklace had come to mean a lot, the fact that it had come from him alone made it priceless. Again the kitten darted around the room with her dogging his every move, but just when she felt she was successful in cornering him, he would spring away, his little tail twitching with glee. By now Christine was frantic, her only consideration was that of retrieving Erik's gift. All other thoughts were forgotten, including his warning about not entering his room uninvited. So when Midnight ran to his door, pushing it open a crack to slip through, Christine absent mindedly followed…realizing her mistake only when it was irrevocably too late.

Erik was standing in front of his dresser, a basin of water before him as he washed his face. He normally would have long since been up and ready for the day, but he had worked late the night before, putting him off schedule. When he heard Christine burst into his room his first reaction was to look up, and that was his fatal mistake. For though he had long ago smashed his mirror, the few shards that remained in place allowed Christine to see his face in the reflection.

Christine stood in shock, both at what she had done and what she saw. The broken glass gave a distorted view of what Erik had wished her never to see,causing any words she may have uttered to catch in her throat. All she could do was stare, dead silence hanging in the air until she could stand it no longer. Though what she heard next made her wish for the silence to return.

Erik's cry was that of a wounded animal, deep and suffering. Raking his hand across the dresser he sent the basin crashing to the floor, snapping Christine from her trance. She spun around and ran from the room, the dreadfulness of her unintended actions becoming quite apparent.

Erik, having donned his mask, burst out after her. His face was twisted in pain at the shame and humiliation of having been seen.

"Damn you!" He shouted, his voice harsh with betrayal. "Why did you do it? Could you not have just let things be? You just had to see the monster? Well look then, feast your eyes!" He lifted his mask, displaying his face, but Christine turned away and collapsed on the floor, burying her face in her hands not wishing to see what he deemed as a punishment for her. "You no longer wish to see, do you? Too much for your delicate senses?" He berated, returning his mask to its place. "Why Christine, why couldn't you just let things be?" His final words almost as a plea for understanding, as he turned from her, bracing himself on the piano as if he were about to fall.

"Erik forgive me." Christine begged, reaching out her hand to him as tears flowed uncontrollably down her cheeks. "It was an accident, I wasn't thinking. Midnight had taken the necklace you gave me and I was only trying to get it back," she sobbed, desperate to explain, but Erik cut her off, rounding on her furiously.

"Lies do not become you, my dear. I thought I could trust you, but you disappoint me, even more so than all those in my past, for you I gave my love… you I trusted with my heart!" he said viciously.

"I wouldn't lie to you Erik," Christine assured him, her voice pleading for his forgiveness. "I freely admit my mistake, but I did not break my word intentionally. What I saw does not change my feelings for you, please believe me." her words giving way to heart breaking sobs once more, but her appeal fell on deaf ears, for Erik could not bring himself to believe that anyone could still love him after seeing the horrifying disfigurement he called a face. So instead of seeing her petition for mercy for what it was, heartfelt and genuine, he saw it only as an extension of her faithlessness, an attempt to sway his feelings.

"You cannot cry your way back into my good graces Christine," he told her, walking forward until he towered ominously over her. "Your attempts to lull me back into the fantasy that your love still exists will not work. You wish for me to believe your lies so that I may still trust you enough to return you to the world above, only so that you can abandon me, never to return," he reached down and pulled her up before him. "Well, your plan will not succeed, little one, you shall never leave me. Now that you know my darkest secret, you can never be free! Never!"

Taking her by the arm Erik headed towards the door to her room as Christine continued her protests and entreaties. He ignored them all and opening the door he pushed her into her room, locking it behind her.

Christine flung herself at the door, banging her fists against the unyielding wood, her vision almost completely impaired by the tears that would not cease falling.

"Erik please! Don't do this," she cried as she slid down to the floor, resting her head against the door. "I do love you." she cried softly.

Outside Erik heard her, but her words caused more harm than good. For his views would not be swayed, his heart could not be reached. He returned to his own room and began to vent his rage on his surroundings, beginning with the remainder of his loathsome mirror.

Christine cried until she felt her heart would break. How could a day which started out with such joy and promise have turned disastrous so quickly? If only he would listen, let her explain and have faith in her words, but he was beyond reason, his mind afire with the sense of her assumed betrayal. How could she ever convince him that what she had seen made no difference to her. She loved_ him, _all of him, including his face. It was the man inside that had captured her heart and still held it in his grasp.

In desperation she returned to striking the door, calling his name, but no answer came. The only response she heard was that of a small clink on the other side of the door. When she bent down to look underneath it her heart soared with hope as she saw the door key lying on the floor. She must have jarred it loose with her pounding! Retrieving her comb from her dresser she carefully maneuvered it under the door, bringing the key to her waiting grasp.

Once free from her room she quickly ran to Erik's door, but the commotion from inside stopped her from announcing her presence. The sounds of crashing furniture and tearing cloth amid the cries of anger and despair cut through her heart like a hot knife. How could she prove her love for him was still alive, that it hadn't died at the sight of his face? He had said that he feared her leaving him, never to return, but she wouldn't leave, she needed him as much as he needed her. However, with him threatening to keep her as a prisoner, how would he ever know that she was ready to stay of her own free will? In frantic desperation she formed a plan, she had to escape and then return to him, showing him her love and desire to stay were genuine. It was the only way.

So with a last whisper of his name she ran to the boat, but finding the knot Erik had tied the night before as unyielding as his despair, she gave up the futile attempt and went instead to the edge of the lake where the tunnels leading out began. She kicked off her shoes and began her way precariously down the narrow ledge, her only path out of the place she had grown to love so dearly.

With one last cry of helplessness, Erik sank to his knees in the middle of his smashed and shattered room. He had no energy left, no reason to rise. All was lost, in one second all his planning, his hopes, his dreams had been brought to nothing. Christine had held the power to make or destroy him, and she had chosen the latter. How could he have misjudged her so, been so taken in by her cunning tricks? Had the previous night's opportunity not taken been just a ploy to throw him off guard? If so, she had deceived him perfectly for he never suspected her betrayal. Now he could see what a fool he was, how senseless it had been to believe she could ever have loved him. For, as even his own mother had demonstrated, no one could feel anything but fear and loathing for such a face.

Yet, out of sheer desperation, Erik's tortured mind continued to cling to the sliver of hope that he may still sway her affections towards him. He would keep her here, as a beautiful song bird in a gilded cage, lavish her with all she ever desired, all but the one thing he could not bring himself to give…her freedom. Then perhaps in time she would come to care for him, to see beyond his beastly exterior, to find the man that lay hidden behind the monster. For though she had faithlessly betrayed his trust in her, his love for Christine remained ever constant. The love that he felt for her was now as natural and as much a part of him as his arms or legs. She could grow to love him in time, he had to believe this…there was nothing else for him to live for if she didn't.

Angry and helpless he picked up a candle stick that lay beside him and threw it at the wall. As it clanked against the stone and rolled behind his bed, he watched as Midnight ran across the room and out the door, apparently frightened from his hiding place by the noise. Again he felt he had been the cause of fright, even in an animal and he reluctantly rose to his feet, looking at the shambles around him feeling his heart in the same disarray. It was then that Christine's words came back to him like a slap in the face. Had she not said her reason for bursting in was that Midnight had taken her necklace? There was no doubt that the kitten had been in his room, he had seen him with his own eyes. Could she have been telling the truth about the necklace as well? With his heart in his throat he walked over to where Midnight had ran from and bending down he lifted the blanket to see underneath the bed. To both his horror and joy the missing necklace lay there on the floor, revealing the truth.

Erik felt his heart sing at the knowledge that Christine had _not_ lied, that her walking in had truly been an accident and not an act of betrayal. Yet, at the same time it filled him with horror at what he had done and said. How could he ever have believed her capable of such treachery? Then again, when that is all you have known in your life, such doubts are hard to lay to rest. He picked up the necklace and clutched it to his chest. What had he done? How could he have acted so rashly? Christine had knelt before him begging for the forgiveness that he had viciously yelled at her, berated her. She had sworn her love for him, only to have it flung back in her face. In light of the way he had treated her his only choice was to go to her, fall at her feet and beseech her to impart upon him the forgiveness he neither deserved nor expected.

He exited his room, intent on a groveling apology, but as he neared her room his steps faltered. Her door was open! A quick scan of her room and the evidence of the key in the lock told him everything. In her fear of his rage she had been forced to escape. He searched frantically around his house, knowing there was no place for her to have hidden, but not wishing to believe she had truly left either. The boat was still tied to the dock, so how could she have disappeared? It was then that he saw her shoes at the edge of the tunnel entrance revealing where she had gone. Erik's blood ran cold at the thought of the danger she had unsuspectingly headed into. Running to the tunnel entrance he shouted her name, hearing it echo as it bounced off the wall and traveled down the tunnel before it was absorbed by the flowing river.

Christine was now seeing the mistake of her rash decision. The narrow ledge that bordered the swift flowing river was becoming smaller and quite sporadic. In places she was forced to hug the tunnel walls, grasping for support in order not to fall. In other places she had to jump across parts of the ledge that had given way to the erosive effects of the dark water.

When she heard her name being called, Erik's voice like thunder in her ears, she began to panic. He had discovered her flight and was now further enraged. She couldn't let him find her, not yet. Not until she had time to carry out her plan for redemption in his eyes. For only by returning to him of her own free will, having first gained her freedom, could she lay to rest any fears he may hold. She had to succeed, there was no other way. She hurried on quicker now, hoping to stay one step ahead of him, but in her rush she became careless and she neglected to test her next seep before putting her full weight on it. As a result, the crumbling ledge gave way, sending Christine plunging into the icy water with a terrified scream.

Erik had just untied the boat in which to follow her when her cry reached his ears. He closed his eyes tightly, praying she had only come across a rat which had frightened her, but the deadly silence that followed confirmed his worst fear.

Jumping into the boat he hurriedly propelled the craft in the direction her voice had emanated, his body tense as his mind fought against any negative thoughts about Christine's safety. He would find her, and she would be all right…she simply had to be!

.

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**Well, there you have it. Just when you thought things were finally going Erik's way, he has to fly off the handle and mess it all up! Typical Erik. But you really can't blame the guy, he has had a lot of people fail him in the past after all.**

**So tell me what you thought. **

**What do you think will happen next?**

**Was her plan too stupid for words or do you see her reasoning?**

**Why do people just never talk to one another anymore? Work things out? Fix it before it gets out of hand? Oh well.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I am posting early since I will be busy tomorrow and did not want to leave you hanging on that cliff too long!**

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Chapter 10

_Farewell_

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The river was so cold that her body went almost completely numb the second she hit the water. It was difficult to even breath once she managed to fight her way to the surface as the current carried her farther downstream. Her arms reached out blindly in the darkness searching for something in which to grab onto, but she had drifted out into the middle of the river and there was no way she could reach the shore.

She had almost given up, succumbing to the weariness of her constant struggle against the force pulling her under when she struck something hard. The sharp pain that shot through her frozen body was sufficient to have caused her to black out, but somehow she managed to retain her senses long enough to grab onto the cold stone that had impeded her. She could no longer feel her fingers and could only guess whether or not they were obeying the commands sent to them from her exhausted mind. She was no longer being swept along with the water so she had to assume they were complying. She only hoped she could hold on long enough for Erik to arrive. For she knew he would come, if only to seek his revenge for her attempted escape, but she didn't care. Just to see him would be heaven to her and she would just have to hold on and wait.

Erik searched the water frantically, holding the lantern high in order to see clearly. The minutes ticked by and as each one passed Christine's chances narrowed. Erik had no way of knowing how far she had drifted, possibly miles, but he dared not rush ahead for fear he might miss her along the way. The search would take time, but time was running out.

He came to a fork in the river where it split down two tunnels, forcing him to make a choice. If he chose wrong she was as good as lost, there was no time for error. Erik held the lantern out before him, shining it down each tunnel. He had never felt so helpless in his life. He was about to make his choice when he caught sight of a hint of white fabric swirling amid the water, and willing to grasp at any straw he headed the boat for it.

As he neared he could make out Christine's small form clinging desperately to a rock protruding from the river. He couldn't tell if she was conscious or not, her eyes were closed and her face deathly pale, but she clung there, her fingers dug into the rock as if holding on for dear life.

"Christine! Christine!" Erik called, desperately searching for any movement or reaction, but she did not even flinch at his cries.

Bringing the boat close to her he steadied it on the rock as he reached out and removed her hold, pulling her inside to safety. As he cradled her in his arms, tears of relief welling up in his eyes, he whispered her name over and over trying to get her to awaken.

"Christine, please open your eyes. I am so sorry, please be all right. Don't leave me." Erik practically sobbed, rocking her back and forth as he pulled her to his chest protectively.

However, all she did was begin to shiver uncontrollably, her skin like ice to his touch. Swiftly he removed his coat and wrapped it around her as he laid her down to pick up the pole. He had to get her back to his home quickly before it was too late.

The trip back up the river seemed as if it took forever, his worry and concern greatly exaggerating the time. His constant glances at her unconscious form not giving him much encouragement. When he finally reached the dock, he wasted no time getting her out of the boat and into her room. Erik frantically removed her soaking dress, leaving her light weight chemise on, it being so thin it would dry quickly. Then he covered her with the blankets and quilt from her bed. Though Erik continued to speak to her, rubbing her hands trying to warm them, she still would not open her eyes.

Before long she began to become fitful, a raging fever leaving her delirious. Her skin went from ice to fire in a matter of hours, filling Erik with dread. As he sat beside her, doing his best to comfort her, applying cool compresses to her forehead, he berated himself over and over. He had done this, he had brought her to the brink of disaster. Yet she was the one forced to pay the price for his folly. His entire existence revolved around Christine and he knew that if she died he would perish beside her from grief.

All he ever wanted to do was love and cherish her, yet he destroyed all he touched, causing her to flee into danger by the force of his rage. She had done nothing to deserve this, she had never asked to be the hapless victim of his poisoned love. He had dragged her into his world of darkness, deceived her with lies and never giving a thought to how it may affect her. He had expected too much from Christine. What obligation did she have to be the one to rescue him from his bonds? Now she lay before him, perhaps dying and all because of him. He would gladly lay down his own life if it meant her release from the torment she was now suffering.

During the next day, Christine continued restlessly drifting in and out of consciousness as her fever raged on. In her delirium she called out for her father, begging him not to leave her in a voice so frantic that it just about broke his heart to hear it. He tried to calm her, holding her hands down as she thrashed violently, afraid she might do herself harm.

Erik hardly left her side, venturing out of her room only to fix her some warm brother and doing his best to coax her to drink. He had never had to care for someone before, the whole experience making him feel helpless and overcome with worry. Would she recover? Was he doing the right things for her? Should he leave her side and fetch a doctor? So many questions to which he did not know the answers. Erik continued to hold her hand and speak gently, trying to calm her as best as he could, but his own fears were mounting. He had tried all his known remedies for pain and fever that he had learned from the gypsies, but they seemed to have little or no affect. If her temperature did not break soon there would be little hope for her survival…and no chance for his.

As the day drug on Erik's guilt and shame increased. To see her lying there, so frail and helpless as the fever only grew, made him feel like the true monster he was. Why had he not believed her? Why had he thought her faithless and cruel? For one brief moment he had held everything he had ever desired…only to destroy it all with his accusations and rage.

"Please forgive me, Christine." He pleaded, kneeling beside her bed as he cradled her small hand in his. He bend his head and placing it against his forehead, the heat of her skin a sharp contrast to his normally cool body. "I would never have gone through with it, never kept you my prisoner. You are everything to me, my love. I did not mean to frighten you so, to force you to try and escape. Please forgive me." Yet no matter how he begged or apologized, Christine would not wake up.

It was in the late hours of the following evening that Erik began to notice a slight improvement in her condition. Though she was still

warm to the touch, she had slipped into a more peaceful sleep and no longer cried out or thrashed about unconsciously. By the next morning her fever was gone entirely, leaving Erik in a joyous stake of relief. She still refused to awaken though, her mind and body too exhausted from the heated battle it had just fought inside her.

The past two days had left Erik in no better shape, he was completely drained of all energy and feeling. He had gone through such a range of emotions that he felt there was nothing left inside of him to feel. Yet, the stabbing pain he experienced at the thought of the task that lay ahead told him different. He would have to return Christine, now before he could change his mind. He knew it would be the best thing for her, though he wondered if he could survive the loss. No matter what, he had to do what was right for Christine, he owed her that much…and so much more.

Erik decided it would be easier if he took her back now before she awoke. It was difficult enough to part with her while she was asleep, it would be next to impossible if he had to look her in the eye as she left his side. He only wished he could tell her how sorry he was, to beg her forgiveness for accusing her of the lies he now knew were false. In the end he hoped that by returning the necklace he had given her she would understand. So bundling her up in several warm blankets he carried her sleeping form to the boat and began the sad and silent journey up the river.

Raoul had spent the past few days searching, with Meg's help, for any clue about the Phantom that may have led to Christine. No one knew anything that could help, that or they were all too afraid to talk, but Raoul went over every inch of the Opera House, looking for trap doors or hidden passageways and returning several times to Christine's dressing room. It had been the first place he had looked but had found nothing. He kept going back to it though, if Christine had heard the Phantom's voice in that room there must be a clue to be found, but where?

So this was the scene that Erik came upon as he opened the panel behind the mirror. Raoul was making his way around the room taping on the walls, obviously looking for secret passages. Erik had to give the man credit, he hadn't given up. This posed a problem though, for how was Erik to return Christine with him in the room? He supposed that he could wait for Raoul to leave, but the damp air was bad for her condition and he dared not let it worsen. Being seen was inevitable, there was no other choice. He gazed down at Christine's angelic face, committing every detail to memory.

"Good-by my darling Christine," he whispered. "Remember me kindly, if you can think of me at all. Though I realize I cannot keep you I shall hold you forever in my heart." He bent his head down to kiss her**, **savoring the touch of her lips on his one last time. "I love you," were his final words.

Raoul had long since passed frustrated and was now working on despair, when for some unknown reason all the lamps mysteriously went out. Leaving the room and him standing in total darkness.

"Blast this drafty old Opera House!" He grumbled as he fumbles for a candle. Taking a small box of matches from his pocket he lit it,

illuminating the small room once more. When he turned around he almost fell backwards, so shocked to see a figure standing before him that had assuredly not been there five seconds earlier. Raoul knew immediately who this man was, not only by his description, but also by the ominous presence he posed. The man did not speak, he only stared at Raoul, and though he couldn't be sure he almost thought he detected a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I know who you are, you are this Phantom who has abducted Christine Daae!" Raoul accused, finding his voice. "I demand that you return her to me at once."

"As you wish Monsieur." Erik said. slowly stepping aside, giving Raoul a clear view of the bed where the sleeping Christine now lay.,

Raoul gave a gasp and took a few steps towards her, only to be halted by the Phantom's warning.

"Take heed Monsieur Vicomte, she shall never be out of my protective gaze so treat her well. Never let her know anything but happiness or you shall risk my wrath." Erik told Raoul in a threatening voice, then with a flourish of his cape the light went out once more.

Raoul frantically re-lit the candle, afraid that once he had he would find Christine gone once more. To his infinite relief, the Phantom had left but she still remained. He ran to her side kneeling by the bed as he took her hand in his.

"Christine?" he called. "Wake up my dearest, he is gone, you are safe now." When he got no response he became worried. "Christine! Please wake up," he called louder, but still no response. "What has he done to you?" He rose then and rushed to the door yelling for anyone to fetch a doctor quickly, returning to her side once he received an answer. "Do not fear Christine, you are with me now. He will never harm you again."

Erik remained on the other side of the mirror listening as all the Opera House became alive at the news of Christine's return. A doctor soon arrived, pushing his way through the crowd that had formed outside her door. After several minutes he gave his diagnosis, saying that Christine was in good health, she was just exhausted and in sore need of some rest. Erik's relief was great at the news, his fears only now beginning to subside.

"I shall take her to my villa." Raoul announced. "There she can recuperate in peace and safety."

"But Monsieur, do you think that is wise?" Firmin asked. "Such an act would be scandalous. For a young lady such as Christine to reside in your home un-chaperoned would destroy her reputation, as well as reflect badly on the Opera House."

"What choice do we have? I refuse to let her remain here with a madman lurking around, ready to snatch her away anytime the mood strikes him. He managed to spirit her away once, and behold the results," he motioned to Christine lying on the bed. "I hear by swear to protect her from any and all dangers this man poses."

"Very well, but please think of Christine. Take precautions to salvage her reputation. Heaven knows she had been featured in the papers enough already." Firmin sighed.

Raoul thought for a second then glancing over at Meg, who stood by her mother, and got an idea.

"Meg, will you accompany Christine to serve as chaperone?" He asked. "You have been such a loyal friend, I beg you to extend your aid a bit further. Please Meg…for Christine."

Meg glanced up questioningly at her mother, her eyes giving a silent plea for approval. A nod from Madame Giry sent a quick smile to Meg's lips.

"Of course Monsieur." She told him, turning towards the door. "I will fetch a few things now and return for the rest tomorrow." She left to do as she had said.

"There, my dear anxious friend." Raoul told Firmin. "All shall be quite respectable. Having Meg in residence as well should silence any wagging tongues." He turned to his servant who stood in the corner awaiting instructions. "Claude, go fetch the carriage and bring it around front. I wish for no more delays in removing Miss Daae to safety. This accursed room is still thick with the threat of this Phantom's presence." He had spat out the title as almost a curse as he looked around the room, shivering unconsciously.

Raoul then carried the sleeping Christine out of her room, out of the Opera House and most painfully…out of Erik's sight.

**Wwwwaaaaaaa! Christine all gone! Erik sad! You sad too?**

**Ok, it can only get better from here on out…right? Well…..**

**So what did you think? **

**Erik is trying so hard to do what he thinks is right to make amends, but in the end he is just shooting himself in the foot isn't he? **


	11. Chapter 11

**For those of you who have followed my other story prior to this one (Angel of Persia) please recall my love of DRAMA and misunderstandings as you continue to read this one. However, you also know I would never deny my darling Erik his happy ending. So with that in mind…..**

**Oh and Guest: Ginger – thank you for your kind review and your compliment. That made me smile big time!**

Chapter 11

_THINK OF ME FONDLY_

As the following days past, Raoul remained ever vigilant over Christine. He and Meg took turns sitting at her bedside, hoping to see evidence of her awakening. It was on the third night, when Raoul sat gazing at her, that she began to stir. She became fitful, as if experiencing a bad dream. Her head turning from side to side, fighting against some terrible thought.

"No! No! Please don't," she cried out, her arms reaching for some unseen vision. "Don't do this Erik. Forgive me, I meant no harm. Erik!" On her last words, which rose to almost a scream, she sat up in bed fully awake as tears sprang to her eyes.

"Christine," Raoul said, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "Do not fear, you are safe now. I am here." Her cry having reawakened the rage he felt for this villain. What had he done to have evoked such terror in her? What atrocities had she suffered at his hands?

Christine glanced around the room, confusion and disorientation mirrored in her eyes. Her gaze came to rest on Raoul.

"Raoul?" She asked, wondering if she was dreaming. "Where am I?"

"You are at my Villa. I have brought you here to safety.," with gentle pressure he willed her to lie back down. "Rest Christine, you have been unconscious for several days and I do not wish you to overdo yourself."

"Several Days?" Christine gasped. Her mind fought to regain the memories that temporarily eluded her. She recalled her attempted flight from Erik and her terrifying fight against the unyielding river…then there was nothing until she awoke here. Only a dream like haze with a few random recollections. Where was Erik, what had happened to him?

"Where is he?" Christine asked, grasping Raoul's hand fiercely. "Where is…?" She stopped just short of revealing his name.

Raoul, mistaking her urgency for fear, scowled.

"You mean The Phantom? This monster named Erik?" he asked, using the name she had called out in her dreams more than once.

Christine sucked in her breath, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

"You know his name? How?" She asked.

"You have called it out many times in your delirium, it was easy to deduce who it belonged to," he answered. "I also know he is no ghost as so many believe. He is a flesh and blood man and I swear that when I find him he shall suffer for what he has done."

"No!" Christine shouted, appalled at his frightening words. "You shall not harm him, not ever. He has committed no crime against me or any other."

"He stole you! Abducted is indeed an offense meriting punishment." Raoul argued.

"Not if I stayed with him of my own free will and for my safety," she pointed out. "That is how it was. He rescued me from the hands of an assassin and kept me safe, promising to return me when Carlotta's involvement in the plot against my life was discovered. He neither harmed me or held me prisoner."

"If that was the case, why is it that you were not returned on the second day?" He asked, suspicion falling across his face.

"I just told you. He said we must wait until Carlotta was discovered and it was safe. He was only concerned for my welfare, he would have informed me when the time was right."

"Then he spoke lies to you. For Carlotta has long since been gone, having disappeared the day following your abduction. You were kept not for your safety, but his own selfish motives." Raoul said coldly.

"No, Erik would not do such a thing. He would not lie to me." Christine said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Oh sweet Christine, you are too kind and trusting for you own good. I swear it is true, ask anyone. The plot against you was uncovered almost immediately, it would have been safe for you to have returned at once. You were being held prisoner by his lies," Raoul watched as her mind fought against the realization of Erik's betrayal. "Please Christine, do not fret over it any further. You are free now, you have my word that you will never have to suffer the sight of him again."

Oh how those words stung her heart. That had been the cause of her now flooding sorrow. The _sight_ of him. Had she the power she would give all she possessed to take back that split second of unintentional error. To erase that look of agony and humiliation from her dear Erik's haunting eyes.

"How is it that I came to be here?" she asked quickly, wishing to know the manner of her arrival.

"He brought you to me," Raoul told her. "You were apparently a burden to him in your present state and he saw fit to abandon you, much to my infinite joy."

"You saw him then?" She questioned. "Did he say anything?"

"Very little, only threats and then he vanished. More than likely seeing it prudent to retreat in the face of my rage at his mistreatment of you."

Christine was unable to stifle her moan of sorrow, turning her head away from Raoul. Had she truly hurt him so deeply that he was now void of all feelings for her except contempt. Or worse, indifference? She could hardly blame him. First she all but destroyed his dignity by daring to look at his face, then adding insult to injury, attempting to escape. He had apparently taken pity on her and had rescued her from the river and the clutches of death, much as one might rescue a drowning spider from a pool of water. You have no love for it but you still do not wish for it to die. Christine now yearned to have died in the watery grave she had fought so hard against. The immense suffering she felt now was far worse, and she longed to slip into a blissful ignorance where this pain could not intrude.

"Please leave me Raoul," Christine asked, her voice a horse whisper over her choking sorrow. "I wish to be alone. Please, just for a while."

Raoul hesitated, but seeing no way to dissuade her, complied. Shutting the door quietly behind him.

Once alone, Christine gave way to sobs. Oh how her life had been shattered, her happiness turned into a mockery. Erik was now as a stranger to her. Could she ever regain his love? Could she even find him in order to try?

She didn't know when sleep had overtaken her but it offered no comfort. The rest of the night she was plagued by dark and foreboding

dreams, until it escalated in a sudden visions of Erik. She saw him as a child, small, helpless and alone, standing in the midst of a hazy fog. He was reaching out frantically, his eyes behind the mask were full of fear and sadness. He turned, calling out to a figure that had appeared in the distance. His childish voice already betrayed the glorious promise it held.

"Why Mother? Why don't you love me?" he beseeched the undistinguished figure.

"Because of your hideous face! Because you are a monster, you ruined my life!" A woman's voice answered cruelly.

"Please, can't you love me despite my terrible face? Please mother, love me. I am your son," he begged again, the agony in his voice giving Christine immense pain.

"I shall never claim you as a child of mine, your repulsiveness banishes you to walk through your miserable life unloved! You will never know love." With that the faceless figure vanished, leaving the crushed boy to sink to his knees as tears ran from under his mask.

"No!" He cried in defiance. "You lie! You lie! I will be loved, someone will love me despite my face. I know they will."

Suddenly in her dream Erik rose, transforming in a turn from a fragile and neglected child to the full height of the powerful and dominant man he had become. His sensual voice and almost caressing gestures seemed to draw her to him, and out of the mist Christine watched a figure of herself emerge.

"You will love me," he said, his words almost a question. "I need you to love me Christine. You are my last hope, I shall surely die of grief is you can't." She watched, unable to control the scene unfolding in her dream, as her replica advanced to Erik. He stood waiting, his arms held open in a trusting gesture, waiting for her. Then to Christine's horror, the other her reached up and tore the mask from his face. The cry of anguish that escaped his lips could have brought a mindless killer to tears. She remained transfixed as the dream Christine shrank back in horror, covering her eyes as Erik writhed in pain and agony.

"Why Christine! Why did you betray me? Why did you betray our love! Why?" he called out through the swirling mist.

Christine sat up in her bed, drenched in sweat, the room echoing the name she had apparently screamed seconds ago. _Erik._

The door burst open and Raoul rushed in, followed by Meg.

"Christine, are you all right?" He asked, kneeling at her bedside as he took her trembling hand in his.

She looked at him her eyes brimming with tears.

"I have to return to him. I must find a way to reach him. He is so alone, so sad. He needs me and…" she blinked, trying to see if

Raoul understood. "…I love him." she finished, hoping those simple words would clear up any confusion that he felt.

"No!" Raoul shouted. "You don't know what you are saying," he began to pace the floor, his mind afire with bewilderment. "How has he brainwashed you, poisoned your mind till you pity his evil plight. He is a beast, he deserves only to be locked away in a cage!"

"He would die first!" Christine gasped, remembering all too well Erik's tone of voice when he had spoken of how they had imprisoned him

behind cold iron bars all those years ago. "He is not an animal, he is a man. One who is kind and gentle, and I do love him, with all my heart."

Raoul was so angry he was unable to speak. So out of complete frustration he turned and stormed out of her room.

"Oh Meg, what have I done?" Christine cried, covering her face with her hands. "I seem to be hurting everyone I care for, and I don't know how to break this hateful cycle. Meg, help me. What shall I do?"

Meg sat beside the weeping Christine, cradling her against her as she rocked her back and forth.

"Hush now. Raoul will be back, his isn't angry with you, just frightened. He has been out of his mind with worry ever since you disappeared and he is afraid for you." Meg said soothingly.

"Afraid I may have gone mad? Afraid that there could be no other possible reason for my insane confessions of love?" Christine asked, looking up at Meg.

"Well you have to admit that it is all quite sudden and not at all like you," Meg's eyes shone once more, with excitement and anticipation. "Tell me about him, tell me about your Phantom." She begged.

Christine gave a sad laugh. _Tell her about him_, she asked. Had Meg a few lifetimes to spare in which to hear all of her words of love? How could she describe him, the man who saw himself as only a monster yet she saw only as perfect. She could not find enough words, then she could find too many. It was like she had been given an essay to write. 'Erik in 200 words or less.' Then it came to her.

"He is my Angel of Music," she said, her face revealing a dreamlike smile. She then went on to tell Meg about their nightly singing lessons, how he had become such an expected and essential part of her life. As she spoke Meg saw that for Christine the sun rose and set in this Phantom, this man. Through her magical description, Meg began to see him not as a frightening ghost, but as gentle, devoted and real. The purity of the love that shown in Christine's eyes released Meg of any apprehension and doubt as to the loss of her sanity.

Christine's tale came to an abrupt halt after her description of the rescue by Erik from the assassin.

"That is all I am at liberty to tell, for I gave my word that I would not betray his secrets," she explained, then gave a sad look. "Yet it seems that I have already failed in that request, for Raoul knows his name by admission of my own uncontrolled lips."

"You mean Erik?" Meg asked. "You can hardly be held accountable for what you may say when unconscious."

"Then he had been far more wise than I when he insisted on blindfolding me when we dared leave his home," her smile returned again as she thought of him and his qualities. "His mind is ever keen and there seems to be nothing he doesn't know or can't do. The magic tricks, his music, and that voice that ever calms me yet at the same time excites my every sense." She ended, looking away, a blush spreading across her face .

"He sounds divine and so romantically mysterious," Meg said. "Please though…if you could…tell me what he looks like."

Christine's face grew sad, as she stared blankly at the wall.

"You wonder why he wears a mask? Why he hides, shrouded in darkness?" She looked straight at Meg, and though she saw anger burning in her kind eyes, Meg knew it wasn't directed at her. "Because the people of this world are too cruel and stupid to be able to look beyond the surface and see how beautiful he is inside. He wears it out of courtesy for those who are not worthy to lick his boots!"

So harsh were her words that Meg remained silent, waiting for Christine to calm herself. She then tried to change the subject.

"Did he give you that beautiful necklace?" Meg asked, having admired the gem since Christine's return.

Christine's hand flew to her neck in surprise. She hadn't noticed it there, yet was both confused and delighted to find it back in her possession.

"He…he must have given it back it me." She whispered, thinking aloud. Then seeing Meg's inquiring look she tried to explain. "Yes, he gave it to me, but I had lost it before he brought me back. Somehow he must have found it and gave it back, but if he found it he must have known I was telling the truth, otherwise why would he have returned it?" She then looked sad once again. "Then again he may have returned it because like me, it no longer holds any meaning for him."

"Why Christine? Why would he feel this way?" Meg asked.

"Because I have done the unthinkable, Meg. I have betrayed the trust he had given me, and now he looks upon me with eyes full of disgust. I have lost him and I don't know how to get him back."

Meg shook her head sadly at her friends predicament.

"For now there is nothing you can do, so I suggest you rest." Meg

said.

Christine was afraid to close her eyes, for though she could see the sun rising outside her window, she was frightened that the dream would return to haunt her.

"No, please just talk to me Meg, tell me anything to distract my mind. Tell me of what has been happening in my absence." She pleaded.

So Meg sat beside her and filled her head with all the latest theater gossip and news. The most important of which was how Andre and Firmin had been forced, out of the lack of a diva, to hire another singer to fill in for Christine. Her name was Jorjet and from the way Meg described her, she was just as bad, if not worse, than Carlotta.

"She is just as foul tempered and sings like a sick cow. She was hired on the recommendation of Piangi, the rumor is that they were once lovers. You should see the two on stage together, when they sing a duet it is enough to make your stomach turn." Meg make a comical face, but Christine wasn't laughing.

"They have replaced me?" She asked.

"Oh no, they would never replace you!" Meg was quick to assure her. "But the doctor said it would be almost a week before you were strong enough to perform again and they had to find someone until then. Believe me, our managers know how talented you are and they are quite anxious that you return as soon as possible," Meg glanced up at the clock and gave a startled cry. "Speaking of, I better get over to the Opera House. Rehearsals will start soon and Mother will be angry if I am late," she leaned down and kissed Christine's cheek. "Don't fret anymore, we will figure something out. Rest now and we will speak more when I return." She got to the door but Christine's words stopped her.

"Meg," she called. "You are truly a dear and understanding friend. Thank you."

"Any time Christine." Meg answered then left.

Raoul was waiting in the parlor, and ran to the foot of the stairs when Meg descended.

"Does she hate me?" He asked, his face drained of all color at the thought. "Have I turned her from me with my unthinking words.?"

Meg placed a sympathetic hand on his.

"No Raoul," she said, using his given name for the first time, but he took no notice. "In fact, Christine is worried she has enraged you. She is going through a lot of painful and confusing emotions and I suggest you try to remain calm for her. Be her lighthouse in a sea of turbulence and if she wishes to be saved she will look to you for guidance," she shook her finger at him sternly though. "and you best not berate her Phantom Erik again! There is no stronger emotion a woman can possess than when she is protecting one she loves. If you do not wish to push her further into his arms, you keep a civil tongue."

Raoul turned away in thought, he knew Meg's words to be truthful.

"I see your point, and it is well taken. To Christine I will be the model of sympathy and compassion in her plight for her Erik, but when out of her sight I shall move heaven and earth to entrap this Phantom and force him to release her from his evil spell. Christine will know happiness again, I swear it." He vowed, bringing is fist down on a small table nearby.

"Well Raoul…that isn't exactly what I had in mind," she shook her head sadly. He meant well, he only wanted to do what was best for her. One could not think too badly of him, having so assured himself that he was in the right. Meg only wished he would feel such a need to protect her from the world as he did Christine, for his misguided actions were born from love, pure and simple.

"Promise that you will keep this between only the two of us. Please Meg?" He begged, taking her hands in his.

And since Meg could deny Raoul nothing, just as Erik could refuse no request of Christine's, she complied with a silent nod.

So as Meg journeyed to the Opera House, Raoul made peace with Christine. All the while feeling justified for the small deception he was playing upon her.

After Raoul had stolen Christine from the Opera House and sabotaged any means that Erik had to watch over her, he had slipped into a dark and lonely mood. Making the journey back down to his house he all but cursed the silence that greeted him. His home, that had rung with laughter and music a few days ago, was now as quiet and cheerless as a tomb. There Erik stood, the condemned man looking upon his final and inescapable resting place.

Oh, but if only he could truly rest, for he was growing so tired. Without Christine his life once again stretched out before him like a never-ending nightmare. He stumbled mindlessly to his room and collapsed on his bed, not bothering to make any semblance of the destroyed blankets. He just slept, letting all thoughts trickle slowly from his tormented mind, and no dreams dared approach him that night.

He awoke the next morning with the sensation of something soft touching his cheek and in the split second before waking he entertained the glorious though that it may have been Christine's velvet lips. However, he didn't see Christine's beautiful blue eyes as he awoke, he instead found himself gazing into a pair of green ones. It was Midnight, cautiously standing beside him on the bed, his soft mews almost an apology for the tragedy he had unintentionally played a part in. Erik rolled over and placed the kitten on his chest, stroking his soft fur.

"You are not to blame, little one. I alone hold that sole honor. It was not my fate to possess her heart, not my destiny to possess any kind of good and pure love. She is back where she belongs…with him," Erik found that he had trouble saying Raoul's name without feeling the bile rise in his throat, threatening to gag him, so he avoided speaking it aloud if possible. "You should have seen how defiant he looked when he stood before me. Though I could have killed him with a thought, and I'm sure he knew it, the young rouge dared to ignore better judgment and didn't back down. If I didn't detest that insolent boy so much I might have actually praised him on his courage. But alas, we are destined to forever remain enemies so long as I drag a ragged breath from this body which exists only to worship Christine." He looked at the kitten who had apparently not understood a single word. "No Midnight, you are not to blame, you are just a poor animal not to be held accountable for your actions." Erik only wished Christine could find it in her heart to forgive him his animal rage as well, allowing it to give way to anything except the pity he so earnestly detested.

For the next few weeks Erik went through his daily routine like a zombie, Midnight's persistence for attention his only distraction. More times that he dared count he found himself in Christine's room, gazing at all the things which reminded him of her. Her clothes, her brush, her ribbons and perfume. Then there was her bed, where she had lay in slumber as innocent dreams of the beauty of love had come to her on the soft wings of butterflies. Then her dreams had turned into a nightmare, one she could not awaken from. He had shattered them all, one by one with his face and cruel words.

Erik tried to reconcile himself with the knowledge that she was young, that in time her scared mind would mend and she would find happiness in the arms of her handsome Vicomte. Not so for Erik… his scars would never heal, neither the ones on his face nor the ones on his crumbling heart. For that was what was happening, bit by bit she had taken pieces of it without knowing and now what remained could not find the strength to hold together without her tender help. He would soon die a broken man, yet she would not be to blame. No, not his Christine, for she was the only true innocent in this whole twisted affair. In the end they would both be free. Christine free to live and Erik free to die.

In the meantime Meg sat by Christine as they had morning tea in her room. It had been almost two weeks and from the many notes that accompanied the virtual forest of flowers the two managers had sent,

Christine knew they were growing impatient for her return. Jorjet had not drawn the crowds as hoped and they sorely missed their new found diva, not to mention the proceeds her performances would bring in.

"When will you come back?" Meg asked, as she did every day.

Christine only shrugged as she gazed at her cup of tea.

"I would have thought you would be anxious to return, all things considered…" Meg's voice trailing off, her words almost as bait, which Christine picked up on with curious interest.

"What do you mean, 'all things considered'?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well it is just that if this Erik of yours loves music, I don't see any better way of getting his attention than singing," Meg pointed out.

"Erik had been my inspiration, he gave me my will to sing. I am not sure I can do it without him…and I am frightened to try," she confessed.

"Yet, if he had all this faith in you, can't you have just a little bit in yourself. For heaven's sakes, if the man found you great enough to dedicate his opera to, who are you to disagree?" Meg put her cup down and stared dreamily into space as she often did when discussing love. "I would hardly need an entire opera. If a man were to write one song for me I would just die of pure joy." She told her, giving a heavy sigh.

Christine's eyes got large, renewed hope springing forth to shine there once more.

"Meg, that is it!" She cried, jumping to her feet.

"What?" Meg inquired, quickly mopping up the tea Christine has spilled on the table in her hurry to rise.

"I shall write a song, one that will convey my love for him and sing it at the Opera. If he attends, and I pray he does, he will know once and for all how I feel. I love him, Meg and whether he still returns such feelings or not, he will hear and know mine." Grabbing Meg's hand she ran down to the parlor to the grand piano that waited there.

"How do you plan on composing an entire piece of music yourself? You don't know the first thing about writing music and I can assure you I know even less." Meg told her.

"I won't have to write a single note, my skeptical little Meg. Erik himself has already done that for me. I will just put words to his work. A bit of him, a bit of me, how can it fail?" She said, but even amid her smiles Meg saw a hint of doubt. "All I have to do now is remember how it went. I do so wish I had paid better attention to my lessons as a child." She began to pluck nervously at the keys, attempting to recreate Erik's music as he had taught it to her. The happy hours they had spent together returning to her mind. Remembering how he had patiently instructed her, praising her every success, no matter how small. This song had brought tears of joy to her eyes, she only hoped it would do so again.

The rest of the day the two girls sat at the piano as Christine diligently hunting for the right words that may sway a Phantom's heart. Long into the night Christine continued to work, Meg having given up the ghost long ago, so to speak, and went to bed. She now realized how Erik must feel when writing his opera, it was a personal thing, a labor of love in every word, one you do not wish to be disturbed during or criticized on. Her words had to wear a mask just as Erik did. It would need to seem just an ordinary song to ordinary people, but to someone who knew the hidden meaning behind the words it needed to convey a heart full of love.

She was glad that Raoul had been called away on business for the weekend for she was not sure he would have understood her obsession over this piece. He had apologized profusely and had never spoken a bad word against Erik since, but that strange gleam in his eye at the mention of his name betrayed Raoul quicker than any words could. She couldn't hate him for it though, how could she for he felt he was protecting her. If only he knew Erik as she did his views would change. Until then he was trying his best and she appreciated him for that.

The next morning Christine sent word to Monsieur Andre and Firmin that she would return and sing at the end of the week, but only if she would be permitted a special number following the performance. They of course readily agreed, willing to stand on their heads if that had been her request.

Christine worked hard to perfect her plan, as did Raoul when he learned of hers. His plan consisted of an accomplice as well, Joseph Buquet, the shifty man from the Opera House who had no qualms about crossing the Opera Ghost for a price. The managers had planned a big 'to do' for the night, all the socially correct people were invited and the gala was publicized and talked about all over town. No one did not know of the plans, including Erik deep down in his tunnels.

Christine would sing again! Erik would hear her, a delight to his ears even if he could not hold her. He knew he should probably stay away from her, try to purge her from his mind, but the gnawing at his gut would not permit it. He needed to go, he had to go…he _would_ go. If only for a final glimpse at the heaven he had aspired to grasp but which had slipped through his fingers.

Erik donned his best opera suit, took his hat, gloves, cane, cape and a single red rose then headed for Box 5, with no idea of the plan Christine had laid out…or the one Raoul had orchestrated with equal effort.

Erik sat on the edge of his seat in the far corner of his box, out of sight from any prying eyes. From the moment she entered the stage to the moment she left, Erik was riveted. He felt like a starving man, and the sight of her was his only nourishment. Her grace, her actions and every turn of her head was like a dance that she alone could hear the music to. At the end of each scene, Erik would applaud loudly and then wait with baited breath for the next moment she would appear. Christine was beyond magnificent! She sang like an angel,_ his angel_, and he felt a stab of jealousy at having to share her with the world that adored her so… but never so intently as he did. His love was boundless, unequaled yet sadly, unrequited.

All too soon the opera ended and the crowd burst into applause, all standing in unison as they praised Christine's performance. Erik's gaze fell on Box 2 across the way and his eyes narrowed…there was Raoul, sitting with Andre and Firmin. They were all smiling at one another, even patting each other on the back as if they had sung the opera themselves. This was Christine's triumph, not theirs, and here they were basking in the glory that was hers alone. It turned Erik's stomach and he stood to leave before he became sick.

Yet, he never reached the door because the announcement from the stage drew him back to his seat like a moth to a flame. Christine has planned a solo, one she had composed herself? Erik could not have been swayed from his chair at that moment by all the threats or entreaties in the world.

Erik watched as Christine took center stage and waited for

the orchestra to begin. When the first note was played Erik recognized the piece immediately. It was _his_ music, in a slightly different key, a few notes out of place, but his none the less. She had given his music words as she had given him life. His heart pounded unmercifully as he waited for her to sing.

_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said good-bye. Remember me once in a while please promise me you'll try._

_ When you find that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me. _

_ We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea but if you can still remember, stop and think of me _

_ Think of all the things we've shared and seen don't think about the things which might have been..._

_ Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind._

_ Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do , there will never be a day, when I won't think of you _

_ We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea but please promise me that sometimes, you will think of me!_

When her last note dissipated, there was a few seconds of silent awe before Christine was bombarded by thunderous applause as she received her second standing ovation that night. Yet over it all she almost dared believe she had heard Erik's voice. Of course she considered the possibility that she could have only imagined it, wishing so hard for it to be true, but she prayed silently that he had truly been in attendance, that he had understood. Would he come to her?

Erik had cheered louder than anyone, risking discovery by his boisterous display, but he couldn't have cared less. He had called out 'Bravi, Bravi, Bravissimi' while he applauded enthusiastically, his heart all but bursting with pride for his lovely Christine. Tonight she had sang for him, he was sure of it. Her words had touched his lonely heart, renewing his hope that there may yet be a chance for them.

Dare he believe what his mind had deciphered from her song? How could he know for sure? He was afraid to go to her for if she were to reject him again, face to face, there would be no hope of his recovery from such a fatal blow. No, he would instead write her a note, leave it in her dressing room and hope for the best. It would be safer that way.

So Erik made his way from Box 5 through the secret passages to stand once again behind Christine's mirror. Taking a pen in his shaking hand he wrote her a note, one that would either set him free or seal his fate. It was all up to her now, he only prayed that he had not read too much into her song, that he wasn't just deceiving himself. When he was finished he slipped into her room, laying his note and the rose on her dressing table, then left, retracing his steps down into his home. If she indeed cared for him he would see her soon enough. If she didn't, he couldn't bear to watch as she read the note, possibly laughing at his misguided hopes.

**Soooo, what do you think?**

**How was Christine's reaction when she woke up?**

**Her and Meg's talk?**

**Raoul and all his 'brilliant' ideas?**

**Erik's musings?**

**Christine's big idea to sing for him?**

**And now what do you think will happen with the note and rose?**

**OHHH, by the way...if you are looking for a new and exciting story to read - go check out the new one by **

Phan3145 called  
"Ideas are Bullet Proof"

**So far it is VERY good and I think you will all like her Erik very much!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you all for your reviews – and for those who are lurking and just reading, please drop me a line and let me know what you think….I do love to hear from you and I love to respond back if you have questions!**

**Now on to mess up Erik and Christine's lives even more…dun, dun duuuuuunnnnn!**

Chapter 12

_BRINGING DOWN THE HOUSE_

Christine was anxious to escape the crowd and make her way to her dressing room. She knew of no other place she would be more likely to find Erik than there. However, it was quite impossible to ignore the people gathered around her. She thought her rescue had arrived when Raoul made his way to stand beside her, admiration and love shining in his eyes as he kissed her cheek.

"You were sensational Christine. The toast of Paris," he told

her.

"Thank you Raoul, but is there any way I can slip away quickly?" she whispered. "I don't wish to appear rude, but as you well know I have an appointment I hope to keep in my dressing room."

Raoul's expression changed suddenly as he tried to hide the anger and disappointment on his face.

"Yes, I know," he sighed. "Still, this is quite a big night for Andre and Firmin. For their sakes stay a little longer and make your public happy."

Christine nodded, knowing that the two managers had come under a bit of a financial strain during her absence, and though she could hardly stand the anticipation, she stayed, smiling and talking with the crowd.

It was a good half an hour before Christine was able to make good her escape from the lobby with Raoul, as ever, by her side. Her steps were hurried as she headed for her dressing room, anticipation making her stomach churn.

"I think you should wait out here," Christine told Raoul when they had at last reached her door.

"Why?" He asked, then realizing the absurdity of his questioned, he continued. "Let me go in, and if he is there I promise to leave if that is your wish. I will not be content unless I see that you are truly in no danger. However, if he is not there, if he has sent no word, I beg of you to abandon this charade and go on with your life. Will you at least consider this Christine?" He bargained.

"Very well, I will consider it, but I expect you to remain faithful to your word if he is there," she warned as she opened the door.

The candles she had lit before the performance had grown low but they still burned steady. She glanced around, looking in every corner, but saw no familiar shape she had hoped for. Then she spotted something on her dressing table and headed quickly for it.

"Look!" Christine called, picking up the small box that lay before her. "He was here, he did hear me."

Raoul frowned, wishing her eyes would dance like that for him. "How can you be sure it is from him?" He asked, walking over to her.

"I just know it," she was almost too excited to open it, her fingers fumbling with the ribbon that held it securely shut. Finally as the satin binding slipped to the floor she lifted the lid with an expectant smile.

Her smile was short lived however, replaced instead by a scream of fear at what lay inside the box. Raoul lunged forward, slapping it from her

frozen hands and watched with horror as a snake emerged and slithered across her rug. Looking around quickly he picked up her coat rack and brought the heavy metal stand down on its head, killing it instantly.

"Christine..." he said, coming to her as she stood with her hand over her mouth and eyes full of tears. "It's all over now. It can't hurt you, don't be afraid." He said comfortingly.

Christine could not be consoled. It wasn't so much the snake that had gripped her with fear but the underlying message it held. Erik hated her! He was beyond her reach, his heart could never be swayed in her direction again. The damage she had done had been final and irrevocable. The dead snake lying before her was his last word on the subject. Erik was completely through with her and this was his way of telling her.

"He hates me!" She cried, throwing her arms around Raoul, her tears growing into hysterical sobs she couldn't control. "I've lost him forever!"

Raoul lead her out of the room and down the hall, his arm around her protectively. When Meg met them in the hall; Raoul turned Christine over to her care.

"Take her back to my villa and give her something to help her rest," he told Meg. "I will be along shortly, I have some business to attend to here."

Meg complied, escorting the still weeping Christine to the awaiting carriage. Raoul, on the other hand stormed furiously down the hall to the back of the stage, murder blazing in his eyes. He slammed the door closed behind him as he entered the prop room, startling the man who waited there.

"Damn you Joseph, can't you even follow the simplest of instructions?!" He shouted.

"What's the matter? Didn't the snake do the trick?" Joseph Buquet asked, confusion coming to his sinister face.

Raoul sprung forward in a fit of rage and struck him in the face with his fist. Joseph fell backwards with a stunned expression and held his jaw tenderly. He then looked up at Raoul who stood over him, fighting to regain control of his temper.

"I told you to remove any notes or gifts he may have left, not to replace them with one of your own. You could have killed her, you damn fool!" Raoul accused the prone man.

"No one was in any danger. The snake was completely harmless. The guy I got it from assured me that it only resembled one of the poisonous kind," he told him as he warily rose to his feet once again.

"That is still no excuse to ignore my orders and write your own plan," Raoul said.

"I bet it worked. Your little Miss now believes that there aint no way he wants her back, is there?" his smug smile making Raoul want to strike him again. Instead he just turned to go. The man disgusted him and he regretted ever choosing him as an accomplice.

"Hold it there fella!" Joseph said, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Aint we forgetting something? Like maybe the money you promised for the job?"

"I refuse to pay you a red cent. You completely botched the job and I don't reward incompetence." Raoul spat venomously at the man.

"Not even for a peek at this?" Joseph asked, holding up a letter.

Raoul could see it was addressed to Christine, the flowing letters written in red ink standing out against the white paper. To give the man money now would be as good as admitting defeat, but he craved to know what lay inside the note more than he valued his pride at that moment.

So extracting his wallet he passed over the amount agreed upon, snatching the letter from Joseph's greedy hand.

"A pleasure doing business with you." Joseph sneered as he left the room. As he passed by, Raoul noticed a fresh red rose sticking out of his lapel and he pitied the poor flower for having to be so close to the disgusting man.

Once he was gone though, Raoul ripped open the note and read it quickly.

_Christine,_

_ My heart sang with you tonight, your words embraced me with love. If what you said was true, meet me at the tree by the graveyard entrance at 10:00. I will be waiting._

_ Erik _

So the Phantom had been there, and he had understood her words. If Raoul had not possessed the foresight to prevent this, Christine would now be on her way to meet this vile man who possessed her mind. Now Raoul held the upper hand, he knew the way to end this nightmare for Christine and open the way for the two of them to be together. He quickly made his way through the Opera House to the manager's office, prepared to make them an offer they couldn't refuse.

So it was that Andre and Firmin found themselves sneaking through the bushes of the park following a determined Raoul.

"I am still not so sure about this," Firmin whispered. "Are you certain we are doing the right thing?"

"You have to ask?" Andre hissed back.

"Truly what real harm has this Phantom done?" Firmin asked, indecision mirrored in his eyes.

"What harm? What harm!?" Andre stuttered in disbelief. "What do you call extortion of twenty thousand franks a month, the endless notes of ludicrous demands, the abduction of our new Diva, not to mention the constant state of dread he has kept us in over the years! And you have the gall to ask 'what harm'!"

"Very well, I concede." Firmin sighed. "Yet who is to say we will be able to catch him should he truly be waiting there as the note said?"

Raoul, who had been listening turned back and held up the pistol in his hand.

"This says we shall," he told them. "He will either come willingly or die in a useless fight. For either way, Christine will be free tonight, I swear it."

Andre and Firmin looked at each other, both hoping the boy's aim was as sure as his words. For if they failed tonight there would certainly be hell to pay later.

"We are in your hands." Andre told Raoul as they continued on.

Erik had arrived early, not being able to stay hidden any longer. He passed between the tree and the bench nervously, unable to sit still. He glanced at his pocket watch numerous times, yet knowing he would wait all night before returning to his home in defeat. Christine would come, he had to believe that.

His eyes fell upon the spot they had had their picnic. His mind all but visualizing the tender kiss they had shared, the remembrance bringing a hungered yearning to his senses once more. Soon she would be in his arms again, and this time he would never let her go… never!

So deep in his thoughts Erik did not hear the approach of the three men until it was too late.

"Stand where you are!" Raoul said in a commanding voice from behind.

Erik stiffened, all his hopes of Christine coming turned to stone before him. He now realized his infinite stupidity. It had all been a trap and Erik himself had blindly given Christine the tools in which to betray him to her lover, Raoul. That was apparently what she had done. Now void of all emotions except hate, Erik turned slowly to face his enemy

"So Monsieur, we meet again," Erik said, his voice icy calm. "However, I have to admit that it is indeed a surprise to see the two of you here, Andre, Firmin." He continued, watching the two managers squirm nervously. "Grown brave have we, now that you have young courage to lead you?"

"You will remain silent, demon!" Raoul instructed, seeing the effect his words were having on the two men. "For I am placing you under arrest for your crimes."

Erik laughed, but Raoul could detect no humor in it.

"Are you to be my judge and jury?" Erik asked. "Tried and convicted at the hands of a love sick boy determined to win the fair maiden?"

"You leave Christine out of this!" Raoul shouted.

"Gladly!" Erik answered. "You may have the faithless girl. Consider her my gift to you for the loss you shall suffer tonight."

Raoul's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What loss?" He asked.

"The loss of the prey you seek to catch," Erik explained, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "The loss of me!" And before Raoul could react there was an explosion between the two of them, followed by a thick blanket of smoke.

The three men found it impossible to breath let alone see as they fought to catch their breath. Raoul shot blindly into the smoke, only to hear the Phantom's laughter as it seemed to swirl around them.

"I trust you will come better prepared next time, boy." The laughing voice taunted. "As for you, my good managers, you will pay for your disobedience!" Then there was silence, and when the smoke finally cleared there was no sign of the Phantom…he had completely vanished.

"What have we done! What have we done!" Firmin began to say over and over, mortal fear rising in his voice. "He will curse the Opera House for sure, we shall be ruined! Do you hear me, ruined!"

"Get a hold of yourself man!" Raoul said sternly. "What will it take to convince you that he is no ghost who can cast a spell on things. His is only a man who knows a few tricks and as a man he can be dealt with." Raoul glanced around, shaking his fist in the air and shouted. "Your reign of terror is finished, do you hear me! I will hunt you down if it takes me a lifetime, you will fall at my hands. Do you hear me? Do you understand…Erik!"

From his hiding place among the tomb stones, Erik did hear. It was final now, Christine had apparently betrayed everything to Raoul, even his name. The grief and utter rejection he felt at that moment was the most intense he had ever experienced in his life. Even his own mother had never hurt him so deeply. For she had never made any secret about how she felt about him, from the beginning he knew any attempts to win her love was futile.

Yet Christine had held out the promise of such unexpected joy, daring him to believe. Then when he had abandoned all his walls, all the protective barriers he had built up over the years and given himself heart and soul, she had slammed the door of love in his face. He would never have expected such cruelty, such heartless rejection from one so beautiful, and that, he realized, was why it had been such a surprise…he had never expected it.

"Christine!" He cried out, clutching his hand over his breaking heart. "I would have given you all you asked for, all I possessed. I would have loved and cherished you forever. Why did you betray me…why?" He looked back at where Raoul and the managers had attempted his capture. Raoul, that handsome daring Vicomte. How he despised him for all the advantages that came so freely to him. Not the least of which was the freedom to court Christine openly and honestly. Oh, Christine, her beauty and talent was like a magnet, one Raoul had been as helpless to fight against as Erik had been. He leaned his head back against the tomb stone that concealed him.

"Christine, Christine." He called out quietly, his voice heavy

with grief. The wind blew around him and in his mind he could almost hear Christine's voice as it mingled with his, the lover's duet they had sung echoing through the grave yard as if to mock his pain. He shut his eyes tightly, willing the torment to end but it refused. There was nothing left for Erik to believe in, with the loss of Christine his heart had died. There would be no more chances for happiness, he would never allow himself to be hurt like this again. They all thought him a monster, why not prove them right? Why not cross that thin line that bordered his existence and become that which they all feared, that which had given him their terrified respect. He would become The Phantom of the Opera in every sense and they would taste his ghostly wrath for their wanton disrespect and betrayal. He looked up at the sky and swore an oath.

"You shall all curse the day you chose to cross the Opera Ghost!" He shouted. The night rang with the sound of his laughter as he made his way back down to his underground kingdom.

Halfway back to Raoul's villa, Christine had snapped out of her grief stricken trance and ordered the driver to return to the Opera House. She couldn't let it end like this, she had to try once more to plead her case before Erik. She had no idea of how to go about doing this, but she was determined none the less to try. Meg had tried in vain to dissuade her, but had finally given up, bowing before her iron will.

Raoul and the two distraught managers had just returned to the Opera House themselves, walking across the large stage as they headed towards their office. Firmin's constant mutters of regret and fear were wearing on Raoul's nerves and he turned to order him to shut up when all the lights in the house went out.

"What the..." Andre gasped, nearly tripping over Firmin who had been walking in front of him. "Let's have some lights here." He shouted. "Who is responsible for this?"

"Can't you guess, my dear Monsieur Andre." A hauntingly familiar voice said, seeming to come at them from all directions. Firmin gave a strangled cry of fear, not knowing which way to run, had he been able to see in which to run that is. "As for light..." The voice continued. "I find the dark much more to my liking. Yet if it pleases you to spoil the air of mystery, allow me."

There was the sound of a great crack and the three men were temporary blinded by the beam of the spotlight as it shown directly into their eyes. When they were able to look up again they saw the dark shape of the Phantom silhouetted against the light. The cape he wore billowed around him in a sinister fashion, casting an eerie shadow on the curtain behind them.

"Please spare us!" Firmin cried out, his voice cracking with fear.

"Show some dignity man!" Raoul chided Firmin sternly.

"Now, now, such unwarranted fear my good man." Erik's voice went on. "In all our dealings over the years, have I ever caused you a bit of harm or the slightest injury? Though I'm sure you realize I could have, quite easily and at any time. Now after all the patience and forgiveness I have shown you, it truly pains me to find you plotting against me. I regret that I should be reduced to treating you like children… very naughty children! Punishment is unavoidable in this situation, though it pains me to do so. Yet, after all is said and done, you may indeed learn from your mistakes and never cross me again."

Raoul, unable to stand his tirade any further, raised his pistol and taking precise aim fired at the figure before the light. The shot rang out and the light was extinguished amid the sound of shattering glass. All of this was drowned out by the sound of laughter echoing through the darkness.

"Good shot, my young Vicomte. I praise you on your marksmanship. But alas, look at what you have done. All you have managed to accomplish is to kill your only source of light, and we do know how much Monsieurs Andre and Firmin value the light." There was a terrifying pause, one giving no clue as the what would happen next. It was then that Raoul heard the faint sound of Christine calling to him from off the stage. He turned in the direction of her voice and saw her and Meg emerge from the darkness guided by a single candle they held out before them.

"Raoul, what is going on?" She asked when close enough to take his hand, but before he could answer, Erik's voice boomed out of the gloom once again.

"Come, come, such a tiny light will hardly suffice for all of you. I am feeling in a particularly generous mood tonight, so let me supply you with a more ample form of illumination."

The hanging chandelier above their heads blazed forth with unexplained brightness, filling the empty room with light.

"How delightful, we have been graced with the presence of our new Diva and charming dancer. The stage is indeed now set for tonight's performance."

"Why are you doing this?" Christine called, confused by his harsh tone. "Please show yourself, Erik…I love you."

Erik's mocking laughter caused her to step back in shock and pain.

"I see that your ability to act has improved along with your voice. One would almost believe the sincerity of your words. However, you forget, my dear, this play is a tragedy not a love story. Then again, who is to say that love isn't a tragedy? But enough of this insufferable reflections…raise the curtain and bring down the lights and let the play commence!" He shouted.

From behind them the massive curtain began to rise quite suddenly, a loud ripping sound accompanying it as the left side tore loose and came billowing to the stage floor. However, what came next was far worse. The massive chandelier began to shake and sway to and fro violently as they watched with gripping fear that left them immobile. Then with one final shutter the chain which held it secure all these years gave way with a ghastly snap, sending it plummeting down towards them. They all may have died there on the spot had it not been for the final shout from the unseen Phantom.

"Go!" Was heard thundering around the room, breaking the trance they had been in. Each of them were able to make it to safety, scattering like dry leaves in the wind and avoiding the chandelier by mere inches.

No one ever knew, or cared to discuss, if his final word had been a command to the chandelier or a warning to them. But as they stood gazing at the damage the chandelier had caused, the hole in the stage, the totally demolished orchestra pit, the first few rows of seats thrown into disarray and the massive curtain in shambles, there was no way to persuade them that it hadn't been anything less than a cry of murder. Everyone that is except Christine, who's confused mind in an effort to protect her from such mixed emotions did the only thing it could. She fainted. Raoul caught her securely in his arms as she fell lifeless against him.

**NO ERIK, NO! Oh well, why do I even bother, he just won't listen to me. **

**So… tell me what you thought….**


	13. Chapter 13

**Ok...let's remember the old saying...do not shoot the messenger (or the writer).**

CHAPTER 13

_DECISIONS_

_Six months later_

Raoul paced the room anxiously, searching desperately for the right words, but every time he had rehearsed this speech it had come out silly and childish. Proposals of marriage were not something one had many opportunities in which to practice. He had even asked Meg for advice, but strangely she had refused to help him in this matter. Raoul had always been able to rely on Meg in the past, in fact no matter what had ever asked of her she had always been there ready to assist. Oddly though, this time she had declined, and now that he gave it some though, she had been acting a bit aloof lately. Not the usual Meg who he had come to depend on quite a lot in the past six months. Without her never ending help, Raoul was sure he would have gone crazy in his feeble attempts to bring Christine out of her state of depression. He thought back, with a regret born from time, to that night six months earlier.

It had been both a night of joy and sorrow. Joy in the fact that it had been the last time the Phantom had been seen or heard from. It seemed almost too good to be true, but seeing (or in this case _not _seeing) was believing.

Unfortunately this underlying relief had a down side. There of course was the small matter of repairing the Opera House. The entire stage and orchestra pit had to be torn up and redone, then there was the business of ordering the new curtain, all of which was costing Andre and Firmin quite a pretty penny. Not to mention the revenues they lost during the weeks they had to close down for these repairs. Raoul of course chipped in on the cost, he felt partly responsible for their misfortunes.

As for Christine's condition, Raoul felt _completely _responsible for that. Many times he scolded himself for having acted so presumptuously. He had only done what he had thought was best for her, but he could not have made her more unhappy if he had tried. Unfortunately it was too late to undo all that had been done, so to look forward and hope for the best seemed his only choice now. Immediately following that night Christine slipped into an eerie state of emotionless calm. Nothing seemed to affect her, she was neither happy nor sad. She never got angry or laughed. She was like a living zombie and it nearly drove Raoul out of his mind with worry. He engaged several doctors of the most reputable stature, but not one had been of much assistance.

She continued to stay at his villa even after Meg had returned back with her Mother. He knew it would mean putting her reputation in serious jeopardy, but he was afraid that if he was not there to watch over her she would forget to eat and starve. Nothing seemed to interest her, she would sit for hours looking at nothing as she fondled the necklace she continued to wear. It bothered him to see it around her lovely neck each day, a constant reminder that the Phantom… this Erik… still held a part of her in his power. Once Raoul had suggested she get rid of it, pawn it off or simply throw it away but she would have none of that. The look of utter disbelief at his suggestion startled him so much he would have thought he had proposed she cut off her arm. He would have welcomed an angry word, a fit of rage… anything that resembles an honest emotion, but instead he only received a simple '_No_' as if she were refusing a cup of tea.

Christine's only deviation from her normal and automated routine she had slipped into, was when she would suddenly disappear. The first time it happened Raoul feared the worst, that the Phantom has stolen her away once again. However, a frantic search of the city found her safe and sound, sitting on a marble bench staring out across the lake that faced the entrance of the graveyard. When he had questioned her reason for coming to such a lonely place alone, frightening him half out of his mind, her answer had been a simple _'I just came to talk to my friend Pierre._' She then gestured towards the figurine of the little angel as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

No matter what she had said, Raoul knew the real reason, the dark and haunting one that compelled her to return to this spot to faithfully hold her midnight vigil. This accursed place held some meaning, some secret shared only by Christine and _him_, and each time Raoul would come to retrieve his missing Christine he felt like an unwanted intruder even though she was always alone. Raoul felt it bitterly ironic that this place lay so close to the graveyard, for as she sat on the bench, her face white with the winter chill he wondered if only death would at last end the suffering inside her. For suffer she did, not only mentally but physically as well. Several time Raoul had to carry her home from her bench by the lake, her fingers and toes all but frozen from the winter storms.

Then there was the constant nightmares that plagued her dreams. Many a night he would burst into her room to find her drenched in sweat from her horrific visions. She was unable, or unwilling, to relate them to him and after a while he quit asking. He only did his best to comfort her as she returned to sleep. Yes, Raoul was indeed regretting the part he had played in all of this.

Just when Raoul had resigned himself to the fact that Christine was going to remain in this unemotional state forever, something happened. They had been taking a walk one afternoon as they often did, when Christine's usually unobservant eyes focused on a cluster of children. There was a group of boys encircling a smaller one who was leaning on a crutch. The little crippled boy was crying and as Raoul paid better attention he could see why. The others were teasing and taunting him with cruel words and not so playful shoves. Raoul had just made up his mind to go over and break up their cruelty when Christine released his arm and stormed over there herself. Raoul watched with shock and surprise as she took hold of the nearest boy's arm and gave the entire group a talking to they would not soon forget. Several began to cry, ashamed of themselves when Christine's words had brought the realization of what they had done. The others just looked at her with respect mixed with fear. In the end they all apologized to the one boy before slinking off like puppies with their tails between their legs. She then spent a few minutes talking with the crippled boy, giving him a few coins in which to buy some candy from a nearby vender before returning to Raoul. For the rest of their walk she said nothing, but he could see that the blank and unthinking stare had left her and she seemed to be looking at the world threw new eyes.

That evening during dinner she surprised him with the announcement that she was going to move out of his villa and find a place of her own, at least until the Opera House reopened. Raoul was all set to argue with her on this decision, but something stopped him. Hadn't he done enough damage in trying to run her life? This was her first step towards recovery, and oh how he longed to have the old Christine back. To see her face alive with laughter, how she had been before the Phantom incident. Though he regretted how things had turned out he still swore that if this Erik returned, he would do everything in his power to protect her from him.

So she moved out, finding a place in a boarding house for ladies and slowly but steadily she began to recover. Now, several months later it was as if nothing had happened. The only sign of the past she still clung to was that infernal necklace that Raoul had grown to hate. Other than that, she was her old delightful self, drawing Raoul deeper and deeper into her charming spell until he felt his heart would burst from the sheer joy of loving her. That was what had lead him to be standing in the parlor of the boarding house, which was the only place gentlemen callers were allowed, waiting for Christine. His palms were sweaty and his heart seemed to beat with a life of its own, causing him to wonder if he would truly survive this night.

When Christine entered the room Raoul felt all his fears subside just from the sight of her smile. He had no doubts about this, he knew now that asking Christine to marry him was as natural as the coming of spring.

He crossed the room quickly and kissed the back of her hand. rewarded by her smile that grew wider. He then closed the sliding doors, shutting out any prying eyes that constantly seemed to be walking by.

"Please sit down Christine. I have something I wish to talk with you about," Raoul began, leading her over to the sofa.

"What is it Raoul, you sound so serious?" Christine asked, concern springing to her face.

"Nothing to be fretting about I assure you," he laughed, reassuringly. "I just wanted to let you know that I spoke to Andre and Firmin yesterday and they said that the Opera House was ready to be reopened. They're even planning a Masquerade ball in celebration, and I was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to the hall."

Christine didn't hesitate in her answer, Raoul had become quite dear to her over the past winter. Always there whether she needed him to be or not.

"Of course I will go with you, it sounds like it will be great fun. What shall we dress as, the choices are quite infinite." Christine laughed.

"Actually I have already given the state of our attire a great deal of thought," he squirmed a bit beside her, nervousness beginning to ebb its way back into his body. "I had hoped we could dress as a bride and groom and you could wear this." He then pulled out a small box, opened it and took out a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "Christine, I love you with all my heart and you would make me the happiest man alive if you would consent to becoming my wife." With it finally said, he sat back and awaited her response anxiously.

Christine was in shock, although she guessed she shouldn't be. She had expected that one day she would be faced with this choice. Could she consent to this and in turn betray her love for Erik? Or reject Raoul, who had been so kind, and stay faithful to a man who hated her? Christine's mind was a blank, no answer would come, yet she owed Raoul something.

"Raoul, you flatter me so by this proposal, yet I find that I am unable to give you an answer at this moment." She said, placing her hand tenderly on his cheek.

His hand came up to hold hers in place.

"Unable to…or unwilling to?" He asked sadly. "You still have feelings for _him_, don't you. After all this time and all he has done…you still care."

"I'm so sorry Raoul, but I can't marry you now and I can't believe you would want me to knowing how I feel," she reasoned.

"That is what I don't understand, how could you care so deeply for a man you knew for only a few days?" His voice was beginning to raise, his dislike for this man showing in his tone.

"It wasn't just a matter of a few days. We spoke together quite often about so many things as he taught me through the walls of my room," Christine said.

"Yes, under deception! All the time him leading you to believe he was your Angel of Music. Somehow Christine he has bewitched you, seduced you with his words as he lied to you. All the time meaning to keep you forever, never to let you go. Can't you see he is a madman, a man obsessed. His sole act of sanity was to have returned you to me. You are free now, all of you, except your mind. Let my love for you purge all thoughts of him, burn him from your memory and release this hold he has on you." He reached out and lifted the necklace from her throat with one finger. "This necklace you wear serves as effectively as a chain in which he alone possesses the key. Let my love break your bonds, break this hold he has on you. Let me bring you out of his darkness into the light of our love." She still did not speak so he removed the ring from the box and placed it in the palm of her hand, gently closing her fingers over it. "Marry me Christine and I promise that you will never know a moment of regret. I have waited patiently for six months hoping you would grow to love me as I do you. I have done all I can to prove that my feelings are genuine. Please say yes, make my fondest wish a reality."

Christine's eyes filled with tears. Raoul watched as she struggled to produce an answer she could not give. Pity filled his heart for her, she had been through so much, yet he knew she had to make a choice. Who would rise erect in this battle of love? Who would claim her heart in victory?

He raised a finger to her lips, silencing her words unspoken.

"Don't answer now, I have waited this long, another day will not kill me. However, I must insist on a choice by tomorrow, for my heart cannot live in this state of limbo any longer. Any answer you give will be better than this endless wondering. You know which answer will fill me with joy," he rose and walked to the door. "No matter what Christine, I will always love you." He said without turning back to look at her, then he left.

Christine sat there for a long time, gripping the ring tighter and tighter until it began to hurt her hand. She then made her way back upstairs to her small room and sitting down at her dressing table she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She had often done so, looking for any clue in her _eyes _that could tell her for certain if her days spent with Erik had been real or just a dream. Had her feelings for him been the fabrication of an elaborate hallucination or as real and intense as they felt. Yet no matter how much she questioned herself, the necklace she wore proved that Erik did exist and they had shared a love which, for her, had no bounds. Even in the face of the realization that he hated her she could not let him go.

Still, maybe she had to…in order to get on with her life. Raoul was right, how could she ever expect herself to forget if she continued to wear a memento from the man. She had erected a monument, a sort of shrine of their love in her heart, and it was now time to begin tearing it down. The first step being the removal of the necklace. She held it in her hands, letting the smooth chain slip between her fingers. Then reverently, as if she were burring a dear friend, she placed it in a drawer in her jewelry box and silently slid it shut.

There, it was done. In essence her past was dead and she must now concern herself with the future. Taking out a plain gold chain, she strung Raoul's engagement ring on it and hung it around her neck. It felt oddly heavy, weighing on both her neck and her mind, but she quickly dismissed such thoughts with a shake of her head. Raoul was a good man and he loved her. He was here and now, and if she wanted any happiness in her life she was going to have to fight to get it. Even if the one she had to fight was herself.

Christine then donned her cloak and went out to the street to hail a cab. She gave the coachman the address, then sat back wondering one last time if she was doing the right thing. With a final sigh she decided that it better be, for in just a few minutes it would be too late to change her mind.

In a short while she was there, on his front step ringing the bell. The maid opened the door and after taking her cloak pointed her in the direction of the study. The door was open slightly and Christine could see Raoul standing in front of the fireplace, one hand stuck in his pocket and the other holding a drink. Although he was staring at the dancing flames she could tell that he wasn't seeing them, he was more like looking _through_ them. Christine took a few steps into the room and paused, words failing her.

"Raoul," she began uncertainly.

He turned sharply, both joy and surprise showing on his face. "Christine? What are you doing here?" He asked, setting his glass on the mantel and walking over to her.

"I wanted to tell you something Raoul, and I felt it couldn't wait," she explained, realizing that she had been afraid to wait for fear she would have changed her mind by morning.

"Then come over here and you can tell me," he said, leading her over to the couch to sit. "Now what was it that you came all this way to say? What could have been so important that…"

Raoul's words faded away and Christine could see that he was staring at her neck, or to be more specific, the lack of her necklace. Slowly Christine reached up and pulled on the chain, revealing his ring that she now wore in its place.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" He asked. his voice barely a whisper.

"It means that the answer to you proposal is yes Raoul. Yes I will marry you." Christine said. It made her heart glad to see the joy her answer gave him. He was such a dear man, never harsh with her, even when she knew she was a trial on his patients. She was sure that in time she could grow to love him…and time was what she had plenty of.

Raoul was so happy he could have burst, drawing her from the couch he picked her up in his arms and swung her around laughing from sheer joy.

"I love you Christine Daae! You have made me the happiest man in all of France ... no, the whole world! I promise that I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much you mean to me. We shall be the envy of every couple in Paris, just you wait and see," he told her, unable to stop grinning.

"Raoul," she giggled, his laughter contagious. "Please put me down before I become dizzy."

"Anything you ask, my love. I would give you the moon if that be your wish," he told her, setting her back on her feet gently.

"I hope you mean that Raoul, for I have two favors I need to ask of you," she said as they sat back down on the sofa.

"What are they?" Raoul asked, knowing he could deny her nothing.

"I need to ask you for a little time, I made a mistake once by rushing into things and I don't want to do it again. Which leads into my second request, I would like it if we kept out engagement a secret for a little while. You are a very prominent figure and an announcement such as this will most certainly be made quite public. I would like some time for me to get used to the idea first, before the papers get a hold of it. Am I asking too much of you Raoul? Am I being foolish and unreasonable?" She questioned, placing her hand on his.

"No of course not. This is a big step in our lives and if it will make you feel more comfortable, then I am all for it," he held the chain that suspended his ring and smiled at her. "As long as you wear this, I haven't a complaint in the world."

He then brought his head down close to hers, slowly as if asking her permission. Christine didn't stop him, it was quite natural for an engaged couple to kiss**, **in fact it was almost expected. Yet, though she tried desperately to, she found she couldn't capture that spark, that inborn fire that she had shared with Erik. Still, passion wasn't everything, or so she tried to convince herself. There was something to be said for tenderness, devotion and a kind heart. When they parted, Christine recognized the hungry look in Raoul's eyes and knew he had not detected her lack of enthusiasm in the kiss. He was blissfully unaware of her indecision, but he was also a gentleman and didn't request any further displays of affection from her at the moment. Perhaps, given time, she could learn to return the emotions he deserved.

Later after he had taken her home and she had slipped into bed she was glad she had done it. Raoul was happy and she had crossed the bridge into a new life, one she hoped would ease the remaining pain the plagued her. In her heart she knew there would always be a place for Erik, but it was now time to make room for Raoul and their new life together.

.

.

***FP33 hides under the bed* I swear it was not me, it was the one armed man who wrote this! (did you get the whole Fugitive reference there?)**

**I try and try to talk seance into Erik and Christine, but all my words fall upon deaf ears. Lets just hope Erik steps in and ruins Raoul's plans!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I know, I know, you all hate me….or at least you hate Raoul. But I cannot stress enough that there WILL be a happy ending for them all. Would I deal my boy dirt like this and not leave him happy at the end? NO!**

**To make you all like me again…I hope…may I tempt you with a little piece of knowledge? As soon as I give my characters in The Phantom Triumphant their much deserved happily-ever-after, I will be posting a new story that is currently in production. No official title as of yet, but I am calling it my "Pirate Erik" story. It will be quite long (at least 40 good sized chapters ) and as long as I keep up the pace I have been writing, I will be able to post daily like I did for Angel of Persia. So be sure to hit the "follow author" button so you do not miss the boat…er…Pirate ship! Arrgggggg.**

Chapter 14

_MASQUERADE_

"Top of the morning to you gents," Raoul greeted Firmin and Andre as he entered their office the next day. "I have no doubts that a finer day never existed."

The two managers eyed the young Vicomte with curious humor.

"What, pray tell, has you in such an interesting mood?" Firmin asked, putting down the papers he had been looking at.

"Everything my friend. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the flowers are blooming. Can't you smell it?" He asked, taking a deep breath. "Spring is in the air."

"Ah, spring." Andre said, giving a knowing wink to Firmin. ''Isn't that when a young man's fancies turn to thoughts of love?"

"Or more appropriately, to a certain charming singer by the name of Christine." Firmin deduced.

Raoul's wide Cheshire grin would have made any attempts of denial pointless, and he ended up giving a defeated laugh.

"I find myself completely guilty of all your accusations. Where Christine is concerned, I am an open book," he leaned forward, eager to share his news. "Although she asked me to keep it quiet for a while, I find that if I don't tell someone I will burst. Christine accepted my proposal of marriage last night." He told them, expecting a boisterous round of congratulations.

Instead, he watched as their smiles faded into worried frowns as they glanced around the room nervously.

"What is the matter with you two? This is great news," Raoul said, a little hurt by their reaction.

"Of course it is, the best of news," Firmin agreed, then in a low whisper added. "Don't you think that this isn't the best place to be announcing such a thing?"

"Why not? Because of the Phantom? For heaven's sakes, he has not been seen for six months. Face it, he is ancient history, never to trouble us again," Raoul said, his scoffing tone upsetting the two managers further.

"Not so loud," Andre shushed. "You can never tell with him."

"Cower and quake in your shoes if you wish, but don't expect me to join you. In fact I hope he is listening and I hope he is getting quite an ear full." He looked around the room and called out loudly for the benefit of any Phantoms who may be eavesdropping. "Christine and I are to be married. Do you hear, she has accepted my proposal and now wears my ring in place of your necklace. She now belongs to me and nothing you can do will spoil our happiness. Nothing!"

However, despite his brave speech Raoul found himself holding his breath, just as Andre and Firmin were, half expecting a ghostly answer. Yet none came and Raoul's confidence returned.

"You see, the ceiling didn't cave in, no lightning struck me dead and the world didn't come to an abrupt end. The Phantom is gone, and I for one say 'good riddance'!" He found he had to laugh just a little at the frightened expressions on the two men's faces. "Come on now, cheer up. This is a big night for you two. Your Masquerade ball is the talk of Pairs and its success is assured. In fact that is what I came to tell you. Christine and I accept your invitation and shall be there with bells on, and considering the fact that I left the costume choice up to her, I may literally be wearing bells this evening."

Raoul's jest had the desired effect, causing Andre and Firmin to laugh, a nervous laugh, but still a laugh.

"We are glad to hear it Raoul," Andre told him. "We are truly glad to hear about you and Christine as well. It couldn't have happened to a nicer couple. I only hope this doesn't mean we will be losing our star Diva to matrimony."

"That will be solely up to Christine. I am an open minded and understanding man and if Christine wishes to further her singing career I will not stand in her way. In fact if that be the case you may reserve a Box for me at each performance, for I shan't be missing a single one." Raoul looked at his pocket watch and smiled at the two men. "Now if you will excuse me, there is a dozen roses out there with Christine's name on them and I am off to find them." With a happy wave he was out the door and gone.

"Do you think the Phantom was listening?" Firmin asked once he was gone.

"I hope not. Otherwise I would not wish to be in Raoul's shoes for anything!" Andre said, forcing his attention back to the papers they had been studding earlier. Yet, try as they might, the dark and foreboding feeling that hung over them like an ax ready to fall would not leave.

So, Erik thought, the gauntlet had been thrown down at his feet. Raoul had all but challenged him to step forward and dispute his claim on Christine. From his hiding place it took a great deal of restraint not to come out and wipe that smile of triumph off that arrogant boy's face, but if he wished to carry out his plan, one he had worked towards for the past six months, Erik realized he needed to remain hidden. So he let Raoul revel in his momentary victory, to relish the taste of success, before he would step forward and dash all his hopes of happiness forever! Erik would bide his time, wait for the appropriate moment, then execute his revenge. Yes, tonight Erik was going to the ball!

As he made his way back down to his underground home he reflected back on the past six months. They had been long and lonely days, each filled with the pain and loss of the woman who had betrayed him. There were times he felt he would go mad from missing her, then in his next breath he would find himself cursing her name and the hold she still had over him. Would he ever be free from her piercing eyes, her lovely smile or her musical laugh? Her memory haunted him always, and even sleep provided no refuge for she crept into his dreams at night as well. He threw himself into his music and out of desperation, by pushing himself beyond what he thought possible, Erik finished his opera. 'Don Juan Triumphant' was complete, and after tonight his fictional hero would not be the only one who would triumph. Erik would reign victorious as well, he would show them all…especially Christine.

That evening when Raoul and Christine entered the Opera House the gala was in full swing. Everywhere one looked there was a sea of laughing, masked faces. Each more splendidly dressed that the last. Christine was sure there were dozens of people that she knew dancing amid the crowd, but with their disguises on she knew that she could be standing eye to eye with them and never know it.

They found Andre and Firmin quiet easily though since Andre's deep laugh was quite recognizable and could be distinctly heard over the din of the crowd. Christine found herself chuckling at the interesting costumes chosen by the two managers. Andre had on a mask resembling a swamp creature and wore a tuxedo trimmed with ruffles and a blue satin cape. While Firmin looked all skin and bones in his skeleton costume beneath his flowing red cape. The two of them were quite the sight, not to mention extremely happy.

"Good evening Andre, Firmin." Raoul greeted the two.

"Greetings and felicitations to you as well," Andre said with a flourish of his cape. "And who might we be graced with on this most auspicious occasion?"

"Why it is none other than King Arthur himself accompanied by the fair Queen Guinevere," Raoul told them with a low bow.

"My, my, Raoul. From a Vicomte to a king in one night, you are truly moving up in society," Firmin laughed.

"Well tonight I feel like a king," Raoul said, taking Christine's hand, his adoring stare causing her to blush beneath her mask.

"With such a beautiful queen at your side I can see why," Andre told him as he took Christine's other hand and kissed it. "We can hardly wait to begin rehearsals on our new production this week, it promises to be quite a show. With your golden voice singing the lead it is sure to be a success."

"Thank you for the compliments Monsieur, you sure know how to flatter a lady." Christine said.

"Well don't tell my wife, least she will expect me to dole out such mush on a regular basis to her, and I refuse to live with a woman who has a swelled head." Andre said jokingly causing everyone to burst out laughing.

"Now if you will excuse us, Monsieurs, we are off to enjoy your splendid party. You two have quite outdone yourselves," Raoul said looking around at the newly remodeled room.

"Well one does one's best," Firmin answered, a look of pride escaping from behind his mask. "Now go. Dance, eat and have fun for tonight is a celebration."

So they did, leaving Andre and Firmin alone.

"The do make a charming couple don't they," Firmin mused.

"Yes, and what a splendid way to celebrate an engagement. This Masquerade Ball was quite an ingenious idea of ours, if I do say so

myself." Andre said, none to humbly.

Firmin plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing tray, and handing one to Andre, proposed a toast.

"Here's to us. Not to mention a prosperous season and our new chandelier." They clinked glasses and downed the small drink in one gulp.

"You know Andre," Firmin said thoughtfully. "It is quite a shame that Phantom fellow couldn't be here tonight, I dare say he would have rather enjoyed the anonymity a gala such as this would provide."

Andre stared at his friend in aghast.

"Bite your tongue, Firmin!" He hissed. His eyes darting around at the myriads of parading masks.

"Forgive me, my friend," Firmin said, realizing exactly what he had just said. "I am afraid, for a moment, I had quite taken leave of my senses."

"Well don't feel so bad, for I have to admit that the thought of how easy it would be for him to slip in among the guests had crossed my mind on several occasions tonight as well. We will just have to remain on our guard and hope for the best," Andre said, pasting a smile back on his face as he turned to greet more of the arriving guests.

Meanwhile Raoul and Christine were enjoying a dance, spinning around in each other's arms to the lively music. Christine was having such a wonderful time that all her worries about her engagement to Raoul and her thoughts of Erik had completely abandoned her. Tonight in her beautiful costume, amid all the laughter and music, she was free. Free to enjoy all that the evening had to offer.

"Are you having fun?" Raoul asked as they dances.

"Yes, I am having a marvelous time," Christine assured him.

"I'm glad. There were times when I wondered if I would ever see your beautiful smile again," he was quiet for a second, then went on. "I know I promised to keep our engagement a secret, but if there is any chance you have changed your mind, this would be the perfect time and place to make our announcement." He suggested hopefully.

"No Raoul, I think I would much rather keep it just between us for a bit longer." She told him.

"Why Christine? It is no crime to be in love and wish to be married. What are you afraid of?" He questioned.

"Please Raoul, let's not argue about this, not tonight. Just understand that I must wait until the time is right for me. A little longer is all I ask," Christine pleaded.

"Very well, I will do as you wish my love. Tonight we shall be free and happy, no more talk of serious matters," his smile had returned, lightening her heavy heart as he spun her into the dancing crowd once more.

Suddenly from the doors at the top of the grand staircase a group of lavishly dressed performers emerged. Each one sported a musical instrument or a stick with long colorful streamers attached. They ran down to the crowd, spinning and twirling among the guests singing and dancing, drawing the crowd into their song as they sang about masks, paper faces and the masquerade.

Each of the performers each took a partner from the watching guests and drew them out to dance. Raoul was snatched away from Christine's side by a nimble little dancer dressed as a water nymph, and though she wore a mask as everyone else did, Christine felt almost certain it was Meg. Raoul gave a helpless shrug and smile as she led him away while Christine laughed secretly at his utter ignorance as to the identity of his would-be partner.

During the past months Christine had not been blind to the devoted looks Raoul had received from Meg, though he seemed totally oblivious. It made Christine sad to see how Meg pined for Raoul's attention, which it seemed he gave only to her. She found herself almost wishing that it had been Meg he had given his ring, which she still wore hidden around her neck. Yet, as she too was pulled forward by one of the performers to dance, she dismissed such useless thoughts.

In the next few minutes Christine shared dances with many partners, and though at first it had been fun, she soon found herself looking around for Raoul. For too many of her partners resembled Phantoms, and as she went from man to man each of their eyes seemed to burn her with knowing stares from behind their masks. She was beginning to become frightened, her heart catching in her throat at the thought that one of these men could be Erik in disguise. Just when Christine's spinning mind could take no more and she was about to flee from the dance floor and escape all those eyes, she was rescued by Raoul's strong arms that held her securely as they danced. All her fears subsided and she fell back into step, following his gentle lead. The singers began again as they danced up the staircase, their song reaching its climax.

The last words were barely out of their mouths when everyone was startled by a loud crack followed by a tower of black smoke as it rose from the stairs amid the dancers. They all shrank away in fear, some falling to their knees in fright and surprise. The crowd gave a gasp as well, but all the time figuring it was just part of the lavish entertainment provided by Firmin and Andre.

Then from out of the fading smoke a figure stepped forward. He was dressed all in crimson, with a Death's head mask visible from under his large feathered pirate's hat. In his left hand he held an enormous bound manuscript with an indiscernible title written across the cover in red ink. Everyone knew the legend of the Opera Ghost and though some did not believe that he actually existed, they all recognized that this was who this figure portrayed.

Most of the guests laughed and clapped their hands excitedly, thinking this was just another actor there to amuse them. Not so for Andre, Firmin, Raoul and Christine. They knew this was no staged entertainment, this was real. The Phantom had come to the party.

Erik laughed inwardly at the manner in which he was being received. The foolish guests thought this was all a ruse, part of their night's fun. Yet, he knew that not all were ignorant of his true identity, and those few were all he wished to convince. His eyes narrowed as he saw Raoul's arms encircle Christine protectively, afraid he would snatch her from his grasp. As for his delicate Christine, her face had gone white, from fear he suspected, at his grand entrance. He would deal with her momentarily, but for now he directed his attention to the two quaking managers who stood at the bottom of the stairs.

Erik began to descend towards them, the sound of his boots on the marble steps resounded through the room like thunder. He approached the two men, taking center stage, all attention on him. He then gave a low sweeping bow, not wishing the blissfully ignorant crowd to suspect him as anything but an actor playing his part.

"Come now good Monsieurs, not even a greeting for me?It would break my heart to think that you didn't even miss me a little," Erik gave a shake of his head. "I do hope you didn't think that I had left entirely, heavens no. I have just been a tad busy as of late, working on something I wish for you to see," Erik held out the manuscript, showing them the title. "I have written you an opera, my good managers, and I humbly submit it for your inspection. I have entitled it 'Don Juan Triumphant''."

As he said the title he threw it across the small space that separated them, into Andre's shaking hands. He caught it, much to his surprise, and held it tightly for fear he might yet drop it in a spasm of fright. With a threatening tone, Erik continued.

"I have enclosed quite detailed instructions which I very much hope you shall comply with. I would hate to have to demonstrate what the consequences will be if you choose to ignore my council. Remember, there are a many things in this world that are worse than a shattered chandelier." He emphasized his last word with a menacing step forward, causing Andre and Firmin to shrink back further. Erik could have laughed out loud at the silly looks on their faces, but his eyes grew stern as he turned slowly to face Christine, still standing in Raoul's embrace.

Erik lifted his hand as if to beckon her forward, and to Raoul's horror she actually pulled away from him and advanced towards the Phantom. Erik was pleased to see that she still responded to his commands, unquestionably and almost without thought.

Christine was also shocked to find herself drawn to him, and though she fought to regain control, she found that resistance was futile. He still held her in his power and she went to him as a willing slave, eager to do her master's bidding.

When only a few inches separated them Erik lifted his hand and using one finger drew the golden chain out before her. Raoul's ring dangled there, the diamond sparkling in the light. So Christine dared wear a token of Raoul's love and commitment. He momentarily wondered what she had done with the necklace he had given her. It enraged him to believe that she may have dared destroy it, in an attempt to rid herself of all memories of him. His hand gripped the chain as he ripped it from her neck, the clasp giving way with little resistance.

"Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, your voice is still mine! You will sing for me alone. Fulfill your promise and perform my opera!" Erik said, his voice harsh and threatening. He then looked over at the stunned Raoul, flinging the ring across the floor to land at his feet. "Keep your pretty presents, she shall never accept it again." He gazed once again at Christine, the twinge of fear mirrored in her eyes causing his heart to melt slightly. He lifted his hand to brush her cheek gently. "You still belong to me Christine, only to me." Then remembering his resolve to only be cool and stern with her, he dropped his hand and stepped back, addressing the crowd. "Although I would love to stay and share in such marvelous festivities, I fear I must bid you all adieu. Continue your fun and dance the night away, but remember…" this he now directed only to Christine, his voice harsh once again. "... I shall be watching!"

Then with another loud crack he seemed to evaporate in a puff of black smoke. There was a moment of complete silence, then the room erupted in a thundering of applause and laughter. Every one still thought it all an act. People began to approach Andre and Firmin, clapping them on the back and congratulating them on such an ingenious show. Saying what a marvelous way to introduce a new production and how they couldn't wait to see this 'Phantom's Opera'. The two managers tried their best to smile and play along, but their knees were like jelly and they were finding it difficult to breath. In all the commotion no one paid much attention as Raoul ran to Christine's side and escorted her hurriedly from the room. No one that is except Meg, who followed diligently.

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**Well, Erik has once more claimed Christine as 'his'. Possessive little cuss aint he? Gotta love it! **

**So what did you think?**

**And remember to hit the 'follow' button for Pirate Erik...coming soon to a FF site near you!**

**Oh and to my Guest reviewers: **

**HopeIsHere16 ****– please find a way to sign in, I have so much to say about your wonderful and insightful comments and I would love to respond to your questions.**

**Chronover ****– If I truly have you under my spell…then I command you to get an account so that I can write you back – ha ha**

**Ginger**** – Oh boy do I want to respond to you! Please sign up – it is free and anonymous – and I would love to know what you are thinking of my Angel of Persia too.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Here is your next fun filled chapter to rant and rave about. Ha ha. I love it when my readers become so impassioned and emotionally involved in the characters! Just please…keep that Punjab lasso far away from me. Ha ha**

Chapter 15

_THE PHANTOM'S OPERA_

In the carriage ride back to Christine's home, Raoul ranted and raved about the Phantom's untimely and inappropriate appearance. Christine said nothing, she just continued to stare out the carriage window at the passing city. Meg on the other hand was quite aware of both of them, her eyes darting back and forth between the two. When the carriage stopped Christine quickly opened the door and got out, not waiting for the driver to assist her. Once on the street, she turned and spoke to Raoul, who was sliding over to exit the cab as well.

"Thank you for seeing me home Raoul. I will speak with you tomorrow at the Opera House," she said absentmindedly as she turned and walked up the steps.

Raoul stared after her, a look of bewilderment on his face.

"Doesn't she want me to stay with her?" He asked as he watched Christine enter the boarding house.

"It doesn't appear that way," Meg replied, getting out of the cab. "I will stay tonight and look after her."

"You would think she would want me to stay," he said indignantly sitting back in the seat, crossing his arms like a pouting child. "I just don't understand, Meg!"

The look of pity Meg had for Raoul's plight suddenly turned to anger.

"You know, Raoul, I would have to say that is the major problem of most men. So why do you feel that you alone should be secluded from that club! Are you completely blind as well as stupid, Raoul de Chagny?" With that she slammed the carriage door in his shocked face, and turning on her heal she went following Christine.

Raoul sat in the carriage looking at the door the two women had disappeared through. What had prompted Meg, who had always seemed so rational, to blow up at him like that? How strange.

Raoul reached into his pocket and took out the ring that still hung on the broken chain. He now wondered why he had even bothered to pick it up. Christine seemed to show no interest in taking it back. Raoul was completely at a loss of what to think or do, and just continued to stare at the ring until the cab driver's voice broke his trance.

"Monsieur? Will you be joining the ladies or shall I drive on?" He asked through the small window in the front of the cab.

"I think that if I dared follow them now, I may get my face slapped." Raoul said giving a confused chuckle. "You wouldn't by any chance understand women, would you?"

"Me?! Monsieur I have been married three times and I learned that it was better for my sanity to stop trying to figure them out and just go along," the cab driver said giving a sympathetic smile to the young man. He then shut the window, and giving the reigns a flip, instructed the horse to continue on.

Meg entered Christine's room and saw that she had sat down at her dressing table and was pulling her jewelry box slowly over towards her. She then opened a small drawer and pulled out a necklace. Meg immediately recognized it as the one Christine had worn and cherished all these past months. This was the first time she had ever seen her not wearing it and her heart went out to her. Meg understood the meaning behind the way she cradled it in her hands now, almost reluctant to put it on once again.

"Christine," she said softly, crossing the room and putting her hands comfortingly on her shoulders. Christine looked up and Meg could see, through the mirror, that there were tears running silently down her cheeks.

"I don't know what to do anymore Meg," she told her friend. "I have tried everything I could think of, even forgetting him, but nothing worked. What is there left to do?"

Meg leaned down and hugged her tightly.

"Maybe there isn't anything you can do. Just hold on and wait for things to work themselves out. You know what they say, love always wins out in the end," she said hopefully.

"I wish I could believe that Meg, I truly do," Christine said, slipping the necklace around her neck and feeling the familiar weight of it once more.

Erik sat at his piano, methodically plucking out the notes, not paying much attention to his playing. Then in defeat and frustration he slammed his fists down on the keys causing a deep and sinister sound to emanate from the instrument. Midnight, who had grown big and saucy over the winter, gave a hiss of anger and jumped down from his usual spot on the piano. Erik gave a sad sigh as he watched the cat take his place on the sofa, getting comfortable once again before closing his eyes to resume his sleep.

Things could not have gone worse tonight, at least where Christine was concerned. He had played out his role well with Andre and Firmin, leaving the two men quaking in their boots. He even felt he had accomplished his goal in regards to Raoul, remaining stern and cold. Yet, one look at Christine had been his undoing. He thought that over the past six months he had steeled himself from her bewitching effects. That he had sufficiently drove her from his heart till all that remained was indifference and a desire for revenge. Who was he fooling? He knew he would never be free from her, he would go to his grave loving Christine, her memory a gentle torture to his soul. If only he could turn back the clock, to recapture the glorious time they had shared together. Though he knew this desire would forever remain an unattainable wish, he would remember those days as the happiest ones of his entirely wretched life. No matter what else, Christine had shown him the glory of love, and for that he would remain ever grateful.

The next morning found Andre and Firmin pacing the floor of their office, each holding a page of the Phantom's Opera. Finally, Andre threw up his hands.

"I can't even believe we are considering this, it is simply ludicrous!" He shouted, but returned to pick up the next page to read.

"Actually, I find the score rather innovative and well thought out," Firmin said, then receiving a stern glance from Andre, added. "For a mad man that is."

"I have said it before and I will say it again, this is utter lunacy. How dare he bully us into performing his opera, the man has some nerve!" Andre said, picking up yet another page to study.

"Andre, whether his opera be a masterpiece or pure rubbish, dare we even consider refusing? Remember his warning." Firmin pointed out.

Andre collapsed in his chair, resting his weary head against the back.

"We cannot afford any more repairs. Our bank account, not to mention my heart, could not handle it," he groaned.

"Then it is settled? We will perform his opera. Really, we have no choice since it is what half of Paris is expecting now, after his little performance last night," Firmin said.

"Yes, yes. He wins! We will put on his production and heaven have mercy on our souls," Andre shouted in defeat.

Firmin called in a messenger boy and handed him a stack of papers, instructing him to deliver the copies of the script to the perspective performer. After the boy had left, he uneasily approached Andre who still sat in his chair, his eyes closed and his face pinched in deep thought.

"Andre?" He said quietly.

"Yes?" Andre answered, opening one eye to look at Firmin wearily.

"As long as we are going to comply with the Phantom's wishes, we best read these." He handed him one of the two notes he held in his hand and Andre could see his name written across the envelope in red ink. "I found them among the script." Firmin explained.

Andre took the note from him and opening it read aloud.

_Dear Andre,_

_In order to accommodate my opera, I would be most grateful if you would please look to your orchestra. Over the past season some have grown lax in their practice and have become quite inept. If you are unable to identify those who need to be given the axe, I will be more than happy to point them out._

_ Sincerely,_

_ O.G._

Next Firmin opened his and read it out loud as well.

_Dear Firmin,_

_I must insist that you weed out the members of the chorus who have not been performing up to the normal standards that your patrons have grown accustomed to. I do not see any hope for progress in them, so dismissal is your wisest course. I find it appalling the way they have continued to sponge off your good nature and hospitality. I have enclosed a list of their names and will expect you to terminate their employment immediately._

_While there are several others in your company who continue to wallow in mediocrity, I have wisely managed to assign them minor roles, hoping in vain for improvements._

_ Humbly yours,_

_ O.G._

"Good heavens, will his incessant demands ever end?!" Andre questioned, crumpling up his letter and chucking it in the waste basket.

"He does have some valid points here though." Firmin said, glancing back at his letter thoughtfully. "It has been mentioned to me on several occasions that the chorus has been weak as of late. I of course meant to look into it, but haven't had the time. Maybe I will make a note to check out his other suggestions as well," Firmin took a note pad out of his pocket and began to scribble down a few reminders for himself, but with another withered look from Andre, he hastily scratched out what he had wrote. "Then again, maybe not," he said sheepishly, replacing the pad in his pocket.

Andre rolled his eyes in exasperation and laid his head face down on his desk. His next words were muffled by the papers on the desk.

"Do as you like, it is not as if I have any control around here anymore. In fact why don't I just take an extended vacation like my wife has been begging me to do and let the Phantom run the entire Opera House. He certainly seems to know more about the business, not to mention our employees, than we do."

"Cheer up my good man. Things aren't all that bad," Firmin said.

Andre lifted his head, resting it between his hands as he leaned on his desk.

"How on earth could they be any worse?" He asked.

Just then the door burst open and in stormed Jorjet and Piangi, each waving their scripts in the air.

Andre's head went down again on his desk with a thump.

"I had to ask."He groaned.

"This whole affair is an outrage! Do you hear, an utter outrage!" Jorjet complained.

"What is it now?" Firmin asked, becoming quite accustomed to her frequent complaints.

"Have you seen the size the role I have been assigned? You most certainly don't expect an actress of my renown and caliber to agree to playing such a bit part as this, do you?" She fumed.

"Signora please understand..." Andre began, but he may as well have left his head on his desk for Piangi cut him off.

"I too am insulted!" The pudgy man bellowed. "Just look at this!" He pointed his finger at the measly lines allotted to Jorjet. "If I am to play the lead role of this 'Don Juan' I insist that Jorjet play opposite me, not this slip of a girl, Christine."

"Signor, Signora," Firmin began, trying his best to placate the angry couple, but they would have none of it and gave a huff of disgust.

As if on cue the door opened again, this time allowing Raoul, Christine and Meg to enter. Jorjet bristles at the sight of Christine.

"Well if it isn't our little diva," she whispered dryly to Piangi.

"Christine, how are you this morning?" Andre asked, getting up from his seat to great her. "No ill effects from last night's ordeal I hope."

"No, I am quite well, thank you," she said, noticing the tension that hung in the air.

"I am glad to hear it," Firmin told her, picking up another script and walking towards her. "For we were just discussing the production and it seems that you have secured the leading role in this production," he handed her the pages to look over.

"She will never be able to pull it off. She doesn't have the voice or stage presence," Jorjet whispered, none to quietly, to Piangi.

"Signora please!" Firmin warned sternly, overhearing her insult.

"Then I take it that you are agreeing to go ahead with this farce?" Raoul asked, almost not believing his ears. Then again, why not. Whatever the Phantom wanted, the Phantom seemed to get. Be it the production of his Opera or his beloved Christine.

"It appears that we have no other choice, Monsieur," Andre told Raoul. "Firmin and I are unable to sustain any more losses a delay would cause. Weeither perform his Opera or shut down permanently."

Jorjet, who was still fuming in the corner, came forward , unable to contain herself further.

"If you want my opinion, I say that she is behind all this!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at Christine. "It is all a ploy to further her ridiculous career, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find her lover, this Phantom, is in cahoots with her!"

"How dare you!" Christine shouted. "You have no right to speak to me in such a way. This is not my fault and I never asked for this role." She turned to Firmin, holding out the script to him. "In fact I don't want any part in all this!"

Both Firmin and Andre stared open mouthed at Christine. Raoul too was taken aback by her unexpected refusal. He had noticed, quite unhappily that she was yet again wearing that damnable necklace. So this came as quite a shock to hear her turning the part down.

"But…but Miss Daae…surely you can't be serious!" Firmin stuttered.

"You see, she is backing out," Jorjet said smugly. "Hardly the act of a professional if you ask me."

"Please reconsider." Andre begged. "You have a duty to the stage."

"I will not do it, no matter what you say," she told them, tossing the script they refused to take back onto the desk. "It holds too many bitter memories for me."

Raoul came at once to her side, sensing a renewed hope in her refusal, even though it had been a direct request from her Erik.

"Christine, you do not have to do anything you don't wish to. Whatever they think, they cannot force you to take the role." He said comfortingly.

Christine looked up at him, grateful for his support.

Just then the door opened for the third time. This time producing Madame Giry, bearing yet another note from the Phantom.

"Please Monsieurs, _he_ has sent another note," she announced.

This time both Andre and Firmin sat back in their chairs with simultaneous groans.

"Go ahead and read it then, I find I have neither the strength or patience to try," Andre said, waving his hand in a futile gesture at Madame Giry.

She looked a little startled at having been instructed to read one of his infamous notes, but she did as she was told and opened it with shaking hands.

_Fondest greetings,_

_I find myself taking pen in hand once more in order to dictate a few last instructions just before you begin rehearsals._

_Jorjet, I find, is deficient of the acting skills that can easily be taught to any halfway intelligent poodle and has been assigned a rather small role because of this. I assume that she will be upset about this turn of events, but I strongly advise you not to bow to her incessant demands and make the mistake of reassigning her a larger part. This would displease me greatly. _

Madame Giry paused there to give an uncomfortable shrug of apology to Jorjet, as if to say that she was only reading what was written. Firmin, on the other hand had to clear his throat several times, quite loudly, to keep from laughing. With a worried expression, Madame Giry continued.

_As for Signor Piangi, I must insist that he be put on a strict diet and regiment of exercise. It is a wonder that no one has had the courage to tell him sooner that such obesity is not healthy. If he wishes to make a serious attempt at slimming down, I would be more than happy to write out a suggested plan for meals and physical activity._

Piangi gave a scoff, unconsciously patting his bulging stomach and turning a bit red at the remark.

_As for my managers, though you play the part as figure-heads well, charming the patrons and making them feel pampered, I find your lack of knowledge of the daily affairs of the Opera Populaie r sorely lacking. It would be most advantageous of you to hire a director or managing assistant to tutor you in certain aspects pertaining to your productions. Once again I would be happy to provide you with a list of candidates who would fit this criteria._

Now it was Andre and Firmin's turn to react indignantly at the Phantom's advice. As Madame Giry read on, she gave a glance in Christine's direction.

_As for the star of this opera, Miss Daae, I have no doubt that her voice will more than exceed the requirements to fulfill her role. However I am sure she must realize that if she wishes to excel in this competitive profession she must maintain a high level of practice and training. If she could find it in herself to swallow her pride and return, I would not hold the past against her and resume our lessons as her teacher._

_Consider my words carefully,_

_ Your obedient servant,_

_ O.G._

Madame Giry refolded the letter and handed it to Monsieur Andre, who took it unenthusiastically. No one spoke, all were deep in thought at the information they had just been given to digest.

Christine could feel her hands shaking, and finding that she suddenly could take it no longer, she raced out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Raoul stood to follow her, but just as he placed his hand on the knob he stopped. Turning slowly back to the others, a wide smile suddenly appeared on his face.

"I tell you, we have all been fools!" He said, bringing his fist down on the desk, causing Firmin to jump. "This could prove to be just the opportunity we have been looking for to trap this Phantom! We shall play along with his games, do as he wishes and perform his work exactly as he described. Yet, all the while we shall be the ones in charge. For if Christine agrees to sing as he wants her to, he will most assuredly be in attendance. The temptation to see her performing his opera would be too irresistible, and then we shall catch him, once and for all!"

"I am not so sure of this." Firmin said in a skeptical voice. "You recall what happened last time."

"This time success is assured, we will hire more people to help us and involve the police if needs be. I know you both want to see the end of his reign of terror as much as I do." He looked intently at the two undecided men. "What do you say?"

"I say that this is madness!" Madame Giry broke in. "The Phantom is no one to be trifled with. He has been around long before the two of you took over the Opera House and he will be here long after you are gone. This entire idea is insanity and I refuse to play any part in it!" She stated as she walked out the door, dragging a protesting Meg behind her.

"Well," Raoul said. "Now that you have heard both sides, what is your decision, gentlemen?"

"If this plan of yours succeeds it will mean freedom for all concerned," Andre said, hope rising in his voice. "I can see no other way to end this, this so called Opera Ghost has to fall."

"If Christine sings we will get our man, and I swear that this Phantom shall feel my fury!" Raoul said, his excited voice resounding his threats around the room.

Everyone was silent, each one contemplating the magnitude of the plan Raoul had just proposed. It was Jorjet who broke the silence as she cleared her throat and stepped forward.

"So am I to assume that this means you plan to do nothing concerning the size of my part?" Jorjet asked bitterly.

Andre had had all he could stand of the sniveling wench and stood up from his chair, turning on her menacingly.

"That's right you old crow, and if you do not leave immediately, memorize your role and show up for rehearsals with a smile on your face, I will be more than happy to rip your contract up into tiny little pieces and send you packing. Do you hear me?!"

Jorjet's eyes grew so large that they looked like saucers, and without another word she fled the room, followed by a silent Piangi. Once they were gone, Andre sat back down.

"As much as I admire your resolve, this plan will not work unless you get Miss Daae to sing." He gave a halfhearted smile at Raoul. "It was a good idea while it lasted, my boy."

"I am not giving up so easily." Raoul told him. "We shall still go forward with the plan, we will just have to be sure Christine agrees to sing and is kept in the dark about all this. I am hereby declaring war with this Phantom, but this time it is we who shall come out victorious!" Raoul headed towards the door impatiently. "I feel I must go after Christine, but I promise we will speak of this further and very soon. In the meantime, go about your business as if all were normal." He then bid them adieu and left.

"Do you really think this plan of his will turn the tide in our favor?" Firmin asked.

"I am not sure of anything at this moment. Maybe you could leave me alone for a little while so that I can think?" He asked shaking his head tiredly.

"Of course, my friend." Firmin agreed, rising to leave. Just before he pulled the door shut behind him he heard the familiar thud of Andre's head striking his desk once again. Firmin made a mental note to bring him back some headache powder when he returned.

From behind the walls Erik smiled to himself. So, the boy thought he could trap him, did he? The fool. It would be his pleasure to show that plotting Vicomte just what it means to mess with the Opera Ghost. He would be ready for whatever he devised, turn the tables on him and watch the boy writhe in pain for his plots against him. That damnable Raoul had taken everything Erik had ever dreamed of and now he planned to ruin his opera as well? He would sooner see the boy lying dead at his feet first.

The idea that Christine had refused to sing in his opera had upset him more than he had believed it could. He knew she hated him, but it had never occurred to him that she might not agree to take on the role of Aminta like he had planned. This would not be tolerated. She would sing! He would see to that. It was all that Erik had left to live for, to hear his words and music brought to life by her golden voice. For six long months, this had been his only drive, his one goal and if she now refused, what was left?

Erik made his way back down to his lair, the silent catacombs welcoming back their master as he entered his dark home. Removing his hat and cloak he sat down at the piano and simply stared at it. Here was where she had sung for him, here was where he had known bliss. Now it was just a cruel reminder and the silent keys mocked him. Why did she continue to haunt him? Six months should have been enough time to purge her from his mind and heart. Yet there she stayed, ever bright and beautiful inside of him.

"Oh, Christine," he moaned, removing his mask in order to wipe the fresh tears from his face. No…he would never stop loving her. Never!

**Erik needs a group hug!**

**Well, the play is on…now will Christine sing?**

**Please tell me what you thought….**


	16. Chapter 16

**Ok, only four more chapters after this one, we are getting down to the wire. I am on pin s and needles wondering what will happen next. (not with the story, but with you readers and your blood-lust for Raoul) ha ha. You are all too cute!**

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Chapter 16

_LAST CHANCE FOR WISHES_

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"Christine?" Meg called softly as she poked her head around the door of her friends dressing room. "May I come in?"

"Yes, Meg. Please do," Christine answered back, dabbing her eyes as she turned to look at the pretty dancer. "I feel so foolish having run out like that. I am sure everyone thinks I am such a child."

"No, no one thinks anything of the sort. You have been through a lot, you are entitled to a few emotional displays." Meg assured her, smiling as she gave her a reassuring hug and sat down on the small couch beside her.

"I think I am quite fed up with emotions of any sort right now. I would rather just go back to when all I worried about was singing. How did life become so complicated?"

"I do not know." Meg replied, looking away as if she were holding in her own sorrow.

"I lied back there, you know," Christine said, looking down at her hands in shame. "I will sing the part like they want me to. I know I said I wouldn't, but how can I refuse? It is Erik's opera…" unable to finish her words she broke down once more and cried.

"I know," Meg said, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "You still love him, don't you?"

"I don't think I ever stopped. I have no idea how I could have even thought about accepting Raoul's ring knowing that my heart belonged to another. I have hurt him and Erik both…am I truly such an evil woman?"

"Never! You are the nicest person I know, you are just…well, confused is all. I think it is a good thing that you and Raoul have put a hold on the engagement. I for one think that taking things slowly would be best for everyone."

"Especially you…right?" Christine asked, looking up at Meg with a knowing smile. "I know you have feelings for Raoul, Meg. I can see it every time you look at him."

"What? I do not….I mean…" Now it was she who could not finish her sentence. Giving a sigh of defeat, she lowered her head and nodded in shame. "I am sorry, Christine. I can't seem to help myself. He is just so…so…perfect."

Christine placed her hand over her friends and smiled. She could see the same look in Meg's eyes that she had when she thought of Erik.

"I know how you feel. Where I see him for what he is, his good qualities as well as his faults and flaws, you see him through the eyes of love. That is why I cannot marry Raoul. I do not love him. I thought perhaps I might grow to care for him in time, but I see now how foolish I was. I will forever think of him only as a dear friend."

"You don't hate me for how I feel about him? I swear I tried with all my might not to think of him this way, I never meant to betray you like I have." Meg pleaded.

"You did not betray me, but if you deny your feelings you will betray not only yourself but Raoul as well. Do not give up on love like I did. I may have lost my chance for happiness, but you haven't. Don't throw it away."

Meg threw her arms around Christine and let her tears of joy fall.

.

.

The next few days of rehearsals were like a blur for Christine.

She would show up, play her part and then return home as stiff and mechanical as a wind up doll. She memorized her role easy enough, though once in her mind she felt she could never forget the haunting music. Erik had written a part of himself into each song and the bitterly sad and romantic words reduced her to tears on several occasions.

True to his word, Erik had kept it a love story, the end a bitter irony, mocking their real life disaster. Oh if only it would be as easy to write a happy ending to her own life.

.

.

That night Christine was feeling particularly restless. Raoul had been obligated to attend an official function befitting his status and would be out late. Meg too was busy with dance rehearsals, her mother concluding that much work needed to be done to upgrade the ballet girls performance. It was a particularly warm evening for May, so Christine decided a walk might calm her.

Donning her cloak she headed up the streets, absent mindedly wandering nowhere in particular. After about a half an hour Christine found herself approaching the lake by the graveyard, more than likely led this way out of habit from coming there so often in the past. Christine shivered, though she wasn't cold, as she approached the bench and took her usual place there. As she gazed out at the peaceful water something at her feet caught her eye. She bent down and discovered it was a rose, probably dropped from a lady's bouquet given to her by an admirer. Christine gave a sad laugh, why did it seem that love came so easily to some, while she seemed to flounder in failure. She held the wilting flower up to her nose, inhaling deeply. The scent it produced brought back a flood of memories of happier times, but they did not comfort her.

Erik too had had the urge to get out, to wander under the stars that evening, but as he crested the large stone wall bordering the graveyard he spotted the lone figure sitting on the bench and shrank back against the archway in the shadows, in order to conceal himself. He had just recently, since the completion of his Opera, been coming back to this place, it holding the fondest memories for him. However, where there was usually no one, an intruder was now present, invading his territory. He was just beginning to form a plan to frighten the unsuspecting trespasser away when he found he recognized something hauntingly familiar in the way his intended victim moved. Could it be? Dare he believe what his eyes and heart were telling him? Why on earth would Christine return here of all places? The very spot she had dared share a kiss with a Phantom whom she now feared?

He silently moved closer, wishing to hear any words she may speak. He watched as she reached up and removed her hood, her beautiful silken hair blowing softly in the gentle breeze. Again Erik found his hand reaching out unconsciously to touch it, aching to once again let his fingers know paradise as they were engulfed by her thick tresses.

Christine raised her eyes from the rose she still held and looked out into the night. Her heart was heavy with grief and her mind was

astir with words fighting to escape, but there was nothing that could be said to ease her suffering. She crossed the small space to the sweetheart tree and with a shaking hand she touched the initials Erik had so lovingly carved there for her. Then she turned to lean her back against the tree, not able to look at the carved confession of love any longer as she head bowed in defeat. Once more she returned to the marble bench, burying her face in her hands as she collapsed on the seat.

"How much longer will I be forced to endure this?" she whispered softly amid her tears.

Erik's heart, one he thought void of all emotions except pain, was moved with pity for Christine. Could he have been so mistaken? He had made that grievous error once before in not believing her about the necklace. Could he now allow himself to make the same mistake again? Or dare he give her the benefit of the doubt and believe what he now saw before him? It would mean opening himself up to the possibility of pain and rejection once again, but he had to risk it, to know once and for all where Christine's loyalties lay. So willing his voice to remain steady, he called out to her from atop the wall

"Christine, please do not cry anymore," his voice seemed to emanate from the darkness around her.

Christine looked up, only half believing the words she was sure she had heard. Standing up she glanced around, catching the brief movement of something in the shadows on the wall.

"Who is there?" She asked, straining to see.

Erik took a step forward into the moonlight, his dark cape billowing majestically about him in the breeze.

"Have you forgotten your Angel?" He asked, his voice low and almost hypnotic.

"Angel…Erik?" she called softly, aware that all the feeling has suddenly left her body.

"Yes, it is I Christine. Come back to me Christine. Though you denied my love once, it no longer matters. We shall start anew, all you have to do is take my hand Christine, come back to your Angel of Music." Erik knelt down on one knee, offering her his awaiting hand.

Christine began forward, then glanced back unconsciously at the way she had come. Could she go now, leave all behind without a trace? What would her managers think, not to mention Meg and Raoul. Dear Raoul, he had been so patient with her, hoping for the love she could never give. Yet before her was the man who had held her heart prisoner all these past months. She was his, held captive by his memory, and she knew her love for him burned still… stronger than ever.

Erik noticed her hesitation.

"I can see that you resist me," he said sadly, expecting her to flee at any second.

Instead she turned back to him.

"Yet my heart obeys," she told him.

"Then come to me, Christine. Embrace our love and surrender to me," he pleaded, desperation catching in his voice as his words drew her forward once again.

.

This was the sight that Raoul happened upon as he walked through the deserted park. It had been a dull evening, ceremonial functions usually were. He felt silly in his stiff uniform he had been obliged to wear, complete with tasseled lapels and sword at his side. As it clanked against his leg he wondered why he hadn't thought to leave it in the carriage with his hat. When he had told the driver to stop and wait for him there while he got some fresh air he had never expected to end up at this accursed place, and was even more surprised to find Christine was there as well. He had thought she had long since given up her nightly vigils here, but then again he had been wrong about a lot of other things lately.

He stepped forward, her name poised on his lips ready to call to her, when he stopped. She was walking towards the graveyard wall, as if in a trance, and following her gaze he saw the reason why. Damn! Once again he was luring her back to the arms of her supposed Angel. Yet he was no angel, he was a man hell bent on possessing Christine, and Raoul saw him only as evil, a dark seducer who was enticing her back to him…back to the grave. Raoul sprang forward, racing to Christine's side before it was too late.

"Curse you, Phantom! Cease this torment and trouble her no more!" Raoul shouted.

Erik saw him approach, heard his irritating words, but was incapable of being moved by any threats, requests or entreaties. His sole concentration was devoted to Christine. Just a few more steps and he could take her hand, draw her up to him on the wall and be gone before Raoul could stop them. Just a few more steps and she would be his.

"Come to me, Christine, come to me!" He called urgently.

Inches before their hands would have touched, Raoul arrived beside Christine, pulling her back with a force born of desperation.

"Christine!" he called, shaking her. "Christine, listen to me. Whatever you may believe, he is poison to you. He has corrupted your mind and will so the same to your body, given the chance. You cannot trust him and you can never return to him!" He turned his head to glare at Erik who had straightened, bringing himself up to his full awe inspiring height. "Let her go, you fiend, just let her go!" He shouted.

Christine seemed to snap out of her trance at Raoul's words and gazed at him in shock.

"Raoul…no!" she pleaded, trying to squirm from his hold on her. Raoul was much stronger though and began to pull her away from the wall…and the Phantom.

Erik reached into his cape and took out a small package that he hurled to the ground in front of Raoul, it exploded in a ball of fire and smoke, halting their retreat.

"Bravo Monsieur, such a gallant display of courage." Erik called, almost admiringly.

Raoul turned and looked at Erik.

"Mere parlor tricks Monsieur? Is that all you know?" He asked.

"Come closer and I will show you everything I have up my sleeve," Erik challenged, beckoning him forward.

"More lies? More deception?" Raoul returned, drawing out his sword, the shiny metal reflecting in the moonlight. "Well two can play at this game."

Christine's eyes widened in terror as she reached out to stop him. "Raoul, stop!" She cried.

Erik spread his arms wide and bowed slightly, welcoming this battle for the right to claim Christine. It had been long in coming and Erik knew it must be. Though there was the chance, a very small chance, that he might perish at the hands of Raoul, he knew there would be no regrets. He had found the sheer ecstasy of living for Christine, perhaps dying for her would bring equal joy.

"That's right Monsieur, approach and face your doom." Erik invited.

"I will see her free tonight. You shall never again hold her prisoner!" Raoul threatened, ever advancing.

"Raoul don't!" Christine begged, grabbing his arm.

"Stay back!" Raoul ordered, brushing her aside. This was between him and the Phantom. He would finish it tonight.

"I am here Monsieur." Erik called, drawing Raoul's attention once again. "Come on, then. I welcome the challenge!"

Raoul was almost at the base of the wall and Erik looked ready to jump down and attack. Christine could see that a confrontation was eminent and she couldn't live with the knowledge that she had been the cause of either man's death. She knew there was no way to stop Erik, for he seemed resigned to seeing this through to its conclusion, even if it meant his death. Yet, maybe she could reach Raoul. She ran across and stood between them, willing his eye's to see her.

"Raoul! Please, come back!" She pleaded as she pulled insistently on his arm.

He seemed to hesitate, torn between vengeance and Christine's pleadings. Finally, giving Erik one last murderous look he made his choice and grabbed Christine by the hand and ran off towards the park exit. As they ran, Christine looked back, and through her tear filled eyes she saw Erik reach out his hand one final time as he called out to her.

"No!" His voice seemed to echo inside her mind, but Raoul did not stop or release his hold on her.

Erik's hands became fists of madness as he stood helpless to prevent their escape. There was no longer words to describe the pain Erik felt. He had thought the loneliness and rejection he had lived with all his life had been terrible, but that was nothing compared to the unbearable suffering that consumed him at that moment.

So, she had made her choice once and for all. He no longer cared anything for his hopes of her loving him. He no longer cared if she chose to come to him willingly. She would be his, even if it had to be by force.

"So be it!" He said into the darkness. "Now let it be war upon you both!" Amid another fireball, Erik vanished from the wall.

.

Once inside the cab, Raoul told the driver to go immediately and not to spare the horses. The cabby of course was puzzled, but from the way they had run across the park he was pretty sure that he didn't want to meet up with whatever was chasing them. So with a crack of his whip the cab sped away. Once the park was long behind them they slowed down to a regular trot though, giving the horses a rest.

"Now I must say,that was indeed a close one!" Raoul said, breathing a sigh of relief as he sat back against the plush seat. "Don't worry anymore Christine. From now on I will guard you day and night, soon he will realize that you are too far out of his reach and that he is unable to defeat our love."

If Raoul expected a reply to this he didn't show it, he just sat there, a look of determination on his face.

Christine had no words to give, even if he had wished for some, she was once again in the depths of despair. She had come so close, both her heart and mind had longed to go with Erik, to again feel the warmth of his protective arms around her. Yet once more, the prize she desired beyond all else was ripped from her grasp. He had been willing to forget their past mistakes, to start over, but now Christine saw no chance of his ever forgiving or trusting her again. She could only imagine how it must have looked to Erik, that she had chosen Raoul over him. Still, it had been the only way to avoid the fight that would assuredly have become quickly disastrous. Her only conciliation at that point was that though she may never see him again, and though he may hate her, Erik was still alive. If the suffering she was now experiencing would assure he remained so, then it was worth it.

**Last one…misunderstanding I mean…now Erik is mad, now he will do anything to get her back and heck with what anyone else wants. Now we can end this! (FP33 does happy dance!)**

**Ok, I did my part and posted a chapter…now you do your part and write a review. Isn't this just the best type of symbiotic relationship? Ha ha**


	17. Chapter 17

**Here comes what you have been begging and threatening for. Hope you enjoy! Let the fun begin! **

Chapter 17

_Don Juan Triumphant_

The next few weeks passed surprisingly fast for Christine. She had thrown herself into the opera, her one final link to Erik. Raoul was ever present, her perpetual body guard it seemed. If she had thought he would have listened she would have assured him that there would be no further attempts on Erik's part to contact her. Christine had a feeling that she was the last person he ever wanted to see again, but Raoul was persistent and it seemed to make him feel useful.

The morning of the opera's grand opening dawned bright and sunny, promising nothing other than a marvelous success. Raoul had arrived early, knowing that Christine and the other actors would not come until afternoon. Yet the actors weren't the only ones who had to worry about tonight's performance, and Raoul himself had one last rehearsal to deal with. He had gathered several highly trained men to assist him in tonight's endeavor, always being extra careful not to let Christine find out. He now stood on the stage with Andre and Firmin, overseeing his plan.

"Do you all understand your instructions?" Raoul asked the group of men standing in front of the orchestra pit.

They all nodded or vocalized in the affirmative.

"Very good. Now we shall make a trial run. Take up your positions at all exits, and when I give the word, shut and lock all the doors. It is absolutely essential that all doors are properly secured," Raoul instructed.

"Are you sure we are doing the right thing Andre?" Firmin asked in a low whisper.

"Have you got a better idea?" He hissed back.

If Firmin did, he certainly didn't voice it.

"Jack, you stay here," Raoul continued with his instructions, singling out one man from the group. "I have a special task for you. I will be sitting up in Box 2, and I have reserved a seat in the front row for you. From there you should have a clear view of both me and Box 5. If I give the signal, or if you see any suspicious person enter Box 5, I want you to shoot. Only if you have to, but shoot to kill." Raoul said gravely.

"What do you mean by suspicious? How will I know?" the man asked, unsure as to the Vicomte's meaning.

"Don't worry, you will know. His mask will be a dead giveaway," no pun intended, Raoul thought.

Firmin approached Raoul uncertainly.

"Raoul, are you sure this will work?" He asked, Andre's answer had obviously not satisfied him. "What should we do if Miss Daae finds out and refuses to perform? Opening night is a bit late to find a replacement."

"Calm yourselves gentlemen. I assure you, Christine will not find out, not until it is all over and done with. After which I am certain she will be thoroughly grateful. So stop worrying," he then spoke to the men again. "Now take you positions, and wait for my signal."

The group complied, fanning out, each taking their place at various doors positioned around the Opera House. Jack, on the other hand, sat in the front row and taking out his pistol began to rub it with his handkerchief distractedly. Raoul had made a special point in employing him because of his renown for such excellent marksmanship.

After giving ample time for the men to arrive at their destinations, Raoul lifted a whistle to his lips and gave an ear piercing blow. From all over the Opera House there was heard the slamming of doors, then one by one the men called back, announcing that they were all secure.

"Very good, record time I would say," Raoul complimented, showing Andre the time he had clocked them on his watch. Then calling out in a loud voice so as to be heard. "Now remember, as soon as _your _assigned door is secure, come back down as quickly as possible to assist in the Phantom's capture."

"How do you know he will come?" Jack asked from his seat in the first row.

"Oh he will come," Raoul assured him.

"Yet, _when _will he come?" Firmin asked in a worried voice. "What if he is here now…listening?"

"Don't be so paranoid, Firmin." Andre told his friend exasperatedly.

Just then a voice, which seemed to come from nowhere echoed through the room.

"Oh, but I _am_ here, Monsieurs. The Opera Ghost is indeed listening." It said, causing everyone to look around apprehensively.

The men who had been at the doors began to converge back to the stage as his voice was heard again.

"No, gentleman, I am over here." It said, this time from the back of the room. All the men changed directions, heading for the voice.

Next it was heard from what seemed the balcony, then the orchestra pit, then the back of the stage, each time causing the men to follow his voice in bewilderment. Finely his voice spoke as if he were up in Box Five and in the confusion, Jack fired his pistol, not hitting any Phantom, but sending shards of plaster ricocheting off the carved panel in front on to the box, pelting Raoul, Andre and Firmin with several large pieces.

"You fool, be careful with that thing! You could kill someone!" Raoul shouted, forgetting that that had been the general idea. He brushed himself off and looked at Jack angrily. "For pity sake, is that the best you can do? And I specifically said when I give the signal, not before."

"But Monsieur…" Jack stammered, embarrassed by his lack of control.

Again the Phantom's voice cut in, filling the building with his booming tones.

"No buts, Monsieur. For the young Vicomte knows of what he speaks, his is quiet the expert on Phantom catching, you see," his voice said, heavy with sarcasm. "Just try and seal my fate tonight. If I were not so busy with the details surrounding the opening of my opera this evening I would take time to teach you all a lesson in manners that you would not soon forget. Feel free to proceed with any childish plans you wish, but at 7:00 sharp, my opera will begin!" With that his voice was gone, leaving everyone in shocked silence.

So at 7:00, just as he instructed, with the entire house full to capacity with eagerly awaiting audience members, the curtain rose announcing the beginning of the Phantom's opera.

From his seat in Box 2 with Andre and Firmin, Raoul continued to observe Box 5. So far there had been no sign of the Phantom making an appearance. He looked down into the first row, catching the eye of Jack who waited expectantly for his signal. From the way he was dressed no one would have suspected him a hired sharp-shooter, especially Christine. Raoul was so assured of victory that he could taste success. All he had to do now was wait.

And wait he did, all through the first act and halfway through the second, until Raoul was beginning to wonder if this Phantom had turned chicken and refused to show. No, he thought to himself, if nothing else this man was no coward, he would make his presence know. In his own due time of course, but he would come. Christine's performance assured him of that.

During the first half, Christine had never been in better voice than tonight, the music had truly been written for her alone. In fact she was so captivating that several times Raoul found himself devoting all his attention to her and not looking for the Phantom at all. Raoul was able to follow the opera enough to realize that he truly would have enjoyed it, had it not been written by a stalking mad man. The story was quite touching in fact. The plight of the poor Aminta, being forced by her greedy father into a loveless marriage to an old man, had brought tears to the eyes of many in the audience. And several shouts of encouragement were also heard when Don Juan had come forth, proclaiming his love for the maiden, pleading for her to run away with him. Now Aminta was escaping out the back door of her father's house on the night before her wedding to meet Don Juan who was risking death at the hands of her father and future husband if they were even seen together.

The only fault Raoul could find in this Opera was the casting. It was hard for him to imagine Piangi as the dashing rogue the part called for him to play. Oh well, one could only do so much with what one had, Raoul thought as he watched Piangi, who was entering the stage that had been fixed to resemble a barn. Here was where he had planned to meet Aminta and escape together. Piangi raised the large hood of his cloak over his face, concealing it so as not to be recognized by any spying eyes. This of course also prevented the audience from seeing his face as well. Raoul took his eyes off of the stage as Piangi hid behind a curtain to await Christine's entrance, and he glanced once more at Box 5. Still no sign of the Phantom.

Christine entered then, taking center stage, calling out to her hidden lover, Don Juan. Raoul watched as the still hooded Piangi revealed himself to her, and he wondered silently if the chubby actor had indeed taken the Phantom's advice and lost some weight. For some reason, he seemed oddly slimmer and maybe even a bit taller. This was indeed strange and Raoul watched with renewed interest.

Christine turned around as Piangi came out of his hiding place, and she too noticed the change in his stature. She watched him walk towards her and her heart began to beat wildly, for she immediately recognized the fluid and powerful strides as those belonging to Erik! How could this be? Was her mind playing tricks on her? She wished she could see his face, to make certain of what she suspected. Yet, it was written in the script that she wasn't to lift his hood, revealing his face, until the end of theirduet. Christine was at a loss of what to do, her mind was screaming one thing while her heart was telling her another. He had advanced across the stage until he now stood before her, and when he sang his first line, the seductive tones in his voice both startled and excited her.

_You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent..._

_ I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge, in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me, now you are here with me; no second thoughts, you've decided, decided..._

Up in Box 2 Firmin leaned forward and whispered to Andre and Raoul.

"Piangi has sure improved dramatically. Perhaps it is the fact that the cloak is hiding his face, but I can almost believe that he is Don Juan, the legendary rouge and seducer of women." Firmin said, quite impressed.

"Yes, he is_ quite_ good." Raoul agreed. "Almost... _too_ good." He finished, raising his opera-glasses to his eyes suspiciously.

Down on stage, Don Juan had begun advancing on Christine, taking her teasingly in his embrace, running his fingers down her arm in an enticing manner. All of which was quite in character with the play, but Christine was no longer reacting as if she were playing a roll. It both shocked and frightened her to realize that here was this man seducing her on stage in front of hundreds of people. She cursed herself for having such a weak resolve to allow herself to willingly submit to his fiery touch. The words in the song he sang, his words, had never made her react this way when sung by Piangi, but then again…she didn't love Piangi.

_Past the point of no return - no backward glances: the games we've played till now are at an end... Past all thought of 'if' or 'when' - no use resisting: abandon thought and let the dream descend..._

_What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us...?_

_Past the point of no return, the final threshold - what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return..._

Somewhere in her fevered mind Christine knew it was her turn. The next lines belonged to her, but for the life of her she couldn't remember them. She had to free herself from their heated embrace, to distance herself from this man who had full reign over her mind and body. Pulling away she backed a few steps from him, regaining her senses just in time to pick up her cue. Though she had intended to keep him at arm's length she knew it was impossible to fight the magnetic pull he had on her. She found herself circling the stalwart figure, watchingas her hands reached out shamelessly to glide across his chest and shoulders as she continued their passionate balled.

_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence..._

_I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why... In my mind. I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent and now I am here with you: no second thoughts. I've decided, decided..._

_Past the point of no return - no going back now: our passion-play has now, at last, begun... Past all thought of right or wrong - one final question: how long should we two wait, before we're one...?_

_When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us...?_

With this he took her hands in his and pulled her fiercely to him, they were so close she could feel his warm breath against her neck as they sang the final stanza, their voices combined in elated euphoria.

_Past the point of no return, the final threshold - the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn... We've passed the point of no return..._

Christine, who now realized the time had come, raised her hands to remove the hood covering his face. Gently though, his hands came up to stop hers as he backed away, turning slightly as if in indecision before slowly returning his concealed gaze to her.

Again Firmin leaned forward in his seat to whisper to his companions.

"This is most disturbing. Piangi wasn't supposed to do that, he should have allowed her to show his face." Firmin pointed out.

However, Raoul was no longer listening, he had unconsciously risen to his feet, holding his breath as he fit together the pieces of the puzzle before him.

Down below Erik too was finding it difficult to breath. Once more, the mere presence of Christine had sent his resolve flying out the window. He had meant to seduce her, bring her to the brink of insane pleasure with his words then reveal to her who it was that had brought her to such an end. He had wanted Raoul to see her look of horror as he stole her away forever, never to see the light of day again. Yet now…what had gone wrong?

Somehow he too had been caught up in the passion that was fired by the voice of his sensual siren. She had reacted, and caused him to react, in ways that now left his original plan a hopeless failure. He still wanted Christine, desired her beyond all reason, but he also wished for her love as well. He had lied, deceived, enticed and even threatened her for her love. He was now not above begging. So reaching out his hand he entreated her with his last passionate plea for redemption and happiness.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime... Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you'll want me with you, here beside you..._

As he walked towards her, his legs painfully stiff with emotion, he took from his finger a small golden ring and reverently slipped it on Christine's delicate hand. She neither flinched at his touch or pulled away and Erik held her hand to his heart as he went down on one knee before her, beseeching her to free him from his everlasting alienation from the elusive emotion…love.

_Anywhere you go let me go too - Christine, that's all I ask of…. _

Erik never finished his last word though, for at that second Piangi came plunging through the curtain, falling onto the stage. He was bound and gagged, looking more like a trussed up turkey than an opera singer. The entire audience gave a gasp of shock, wondering who this impostor on the stage truly was.

Raoul gave an angry curse, tossed down his opera-glasses and jumped forward over the railing of his box. Grabbing a hold of the nearby curtain he slid safely to the stage floor.

Erik had seized Christine's hand and was heading towards the stage exit when he spotted several of Raoul's hired thugs blocking his escape. So turning the other way he headed to the opposite side, only to come face to face with Raoul himself. Reaching up Erik yanked the hooded cloak from around him, revealing his masked face and dark evening suit he wore to the audience. A gasp of horror went up among the crowd and certain ladies fainted from shock as they realized who it was that stood before them.

Raoul took a swing at Erik, but he stepped aside at the last second, tossing his discarded cloak in his face. With his view obstructed, Raoul lost his balance and went sprawling across the stage. As he began to rise, freeing himself from the cloak, he saw Jack from the first row taking aim.

"No!" Raoul shouted, afraid Christine might be struck by mistake, but Jack fired none the less, the sound of the shot resounding throughout the room causing Christine to scream out in terror.

Erik had had a split second warning from Raoul's shout and that was all his lightening reflexes needed. He was able to side step the bullet, it missing him by only a few scant inches. No matter how much he desired revenge on Raoul, Erik was not going to wait around long enough for the marksman to get off another shot. So pulling Christine close to him they disappeared in a flash of light and black smoke, leaving the audience, the actors, the managers and Raoul took on in helpless silence.

Once the initial shock had worn off, the auditorium became a stir with shouts and cries. Some of the audience was angry at such a spectacle, many were disappointed at not getting to see the end of the opera, while others figured that this had truly been the planned ending for the play. Needless to say, all concerned were completely confused.

Up in Box 2 Andre and Firmin were in a dither. Firmin pulled out a small bottle of smelling salts that he had begun carrying just recently for occasions such as this, and inhaled a few whiffs in order to clear his senses.

"We are ruined Andre, ruined I tell you. We should never have crossed him!" Firmin said, offering the bottle to Andre.

"Keep silent, Firmin. Your incessant misgivings shall drive me to drink," Andre shouted, waving aside the proffered bottle. "We must get down there at once and try to placate the audience, if it is now at all possible."

The two men left their box, coming out onto the stage trying to get the attention of the audience, but it was several minutes before they were given any heed. In the meantime Raoul had been running from person to person, imploring if they had seen anything that may help him discover where the Phantom and Christine had gone. No one was of any help, every one's view had been hampered by the flash of light and smoke. Raoul was

frantic by now and even when Meg had come to his side, he would not be consoled.

"I don't even know how to begin following them! Where do I start?" He asked Meg, at his wits end.

"I have no idea, Raoul. The only place she ever mentioned was in her room and there she only heard his voice. I know that you searched it several times and found nothing," Meg said.

"Yes, but apparently not well enough. There has to be a way in and out from there, for that was the way he returned her," he took her hand, heading towards Christine's dressing room. "Come Meg, we will look once more and this time the answer shall be revealed."

As they left the stage Andre and Firmin were promising everyone a repeat performance free of charge. Many stormed out, swearing never to return, others accepted their offer while a small number of prominent citizens and newspaper men demanded an audience with the two managers. In the light of the severity of the scandalous situation they didn't see any way of rejecting their request while living to tell about it. So reluctantly they invited them up to their office.

By now Raoul and Meg had reached Christine's dressing room thoroughly. Raoul stood in the middle, searching the room with his eyes, looking in vain for anything he may have missed. Then his eyes came to rest on the large full length mirror that hung on the wall. It was a long shot, but he knew of only one way to confirm his suspicions. Picking up the heavy wooden dressing chair he hurled it at the glass, sending razor sharp shards crashing to the floor.

"Look! A door behind the mirror," Meg gasped, stepping carefully through the glass on the floor.

Raoul gave the door a heave, watching as it slid aside to reveal a long dark tunnel leading downward. Reaching over to pick up the oil lamp on the dresser he held it out before him, shining the light as far as he could down the pitch black passageway.

"You think he took her down there?" Meg asked with a shudder of fear.

"Yes, the animal has taken his prey and run to ground " Raoul said. He moved forward, stepping across the threshold into the stone cave.

"You aren't going alone are you?" Meg cried, gripping his sleeve with fingers like a vice. "At least let me get Monsieurs Andre and Firmin." She suggested.

"No, tell no one where I have gone. Andre and Firmin have been through enough, Meg. What needs to be done, I must do... alone." He looked into the darkness. "This battle is between he and I, and soon it shall be finished," he glanced back at Meg. "If I do not return soon, it would be safe to assume I have perished at his hands and you alone will be left to tell the tale. For I shall not return without Christine, and to do so I will more than likely have to kill this Phantom."

Meg gave a frightened cry, tears springing to her eyes. Before either had time to think she threw her arms around Raoul`s neck and kissed him fiercely. The intensity of the kiss surprised both at first, before settling into a more relaxed and tender exchange. All these months Raoul had felt a special bond, a strange closeness to Meg, but he had been blinded by the belief that it was Christine who held his heart. Yet now as he held Meg, it seemed so right, so natural to him. Before he could analyze it further, Meg pulled away from him with a cry of grief and backed towards the door.

"Be careful Raoul, and please come back…come back to me." she then turned and fled the room in tears.

Raoul stared after her a few seconds longer before trudging forward. He would reflect on this new development later, right now he must concentrate on rescuing Christine. Once she was safe he would have time to think, until then his mind was set on that one goal.

Down Raoul went, deeper and deeper into the ground, the darkness pressing in on him until it was difficult to breath. Just then his foot tripped on something causing him to fall roughly to the ground, his light extinguishing immediately as it struck the stone floor. Raoul began to rise, checking himself for any broken bones, but then stood stalk still as he heard a deep rumbling sound coming from the tunnel behind him. Seconds later a huge section of the tunnel was filled with rocks, boulders and dirt, blocking off any chance of his returning the way he had come. He then realized that the object he must have stumbled over had been a trip wire rigged to cause a cave in.

So this Phantom was serious about keeping his privacy. Raoul made a note to be more careful as he went, which was now doubly hard since he had no light. So feeling his way he continued much slower and cautiously.

Soon though he began to see a glimmer of light ahead causing him to hurry his steps. However, his excited anticipation turned to despair when laid out before him, lit by the lights of nearby torches was a huge flowing underground river. Raoul was not giving up yet, though it seemed his odds for success had lessened somewhat. So taking several deep breaths he dove into the water, letting the current carry him down stream, hopefully to Christine.

**Now I have posted TWO chapters at once because I will be away from a computer for the weekend and I did not want to get off my posting schedule …so the next chapter is the one I would have posted on Saturday. I will be back in time for my next posting on Monday though. Please take a moment to review this one BEFORE you move on to the next though…thanks!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Here we go….**

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CHAPTER 18  
_DOWN ONCE MORE_

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Christine's memory of their journey down the river was hazy. Her eyes had stung from the smoke and the fumes from the explosion and it seemed to have clouded her mind. She vaguely recalled Erik carrying her to the boat, setting her inside and then propelling it through the water. He never said a word to her and all she could remember doing was coughing.

Christine was finely able to come to her senses when she felt herself being pulled gently from the boat, her feet coming to rest on the stone floor of his underground home once more. She blinked, allowing her eyes to clear of the tears she had shed to remove the sting from the smoke. It took a few seconds to adjust to the dim lights that Erik was so fond of. He led her over to the sofa and she followed obediently. Midnight, who was occupying his usual place on the cushion hissed his displeasure as Erik ordered him off with a wave of his hand.

Christine starred in amazement, had the kitten grown so much in her absence? Her thoughts were interrupted as she realized Erik wished for her so sit down, and she did as he bid her without question. All the while Erik continued to give her a blank, unreadable stare. Christine was not sure what to say or how to react. Their relationship had changed so many times over the last few months. Which Erik stood before her now? One of love or one of hate and revenge? The words he had spoken to her on the stage, and the ring she now wore on her left hand, had filled her with such hope, but now he was acting like a stranger. He turned from her and began walking across the room, but her voice halted him.

"Erik, why did you bring me back here in this manner? You have to realize that people will now be looking for me," she said this, her only concern being for his safety, but apparently that was not what Erik read into it. He turned on her, his words fierce.

"So you cling to the hope that your precious Raoul will come to your rescue, that he will save you from my fiendish clutches?" He asked, his harsh manner causing Christine to flinch. "You may as well abandon all your childish fantasies of the handsome prince charging in to save the day, there shall be no rescue for you. If any attempt is made, their way shall be permanently blocked, for I have rigged a few precautions to insure our privacy. The traps are only a last and final resort however, for I do not expect anyone to ever find a way down here. So you can forget any useless prayers or cries for help, you are now beyond being heard," Erik spread out his hands and gestured around him. "Here we shall remain, entombed together forever. If I cannot have you in your world, I shall keep you in mine!" Erik could feel the cold fingers of regret begin to touch his heart at the cruelty of his words. He was frightening Christine, he saw this, but he was unable to stop himself. He had been denied so much in his life because of the cruelties of fate, watching things slip through his grasp, having no control over them, but not this time! Christine was here and she could not escape, she was his. This was one part of his life he would command, she was his last and only desire and he would fight with every ounce of strength left in his body to keep her.

"Erik, you don't have to do this. I would…" She began, trying to explain, but he cut her off.

"Oh yes I do. You have made it quite clear that this is the only way. Because of this face, I have been hated and feared by everyone. Even my own mother. The joy and happiness she should have felt at the birth of her first child turned to fear and loathing at the sight of me. This mask..." His hand reached up and touched the hated thing with fingers that shook from pain and anger. "This mask was her fist and only gift to me." He took a few halting steps towards her, his hand reaching out to her pleadingly. "Then…then I found you Christine and I dared believe you were different. I had been ready to die, to let my life end, and then you came. I prayed that you would be happy, that you would stay in my world and yes I prayed that you could love me. Yet, once again this horrid face poisoned any chance of that. Still, I clung to the hope that you could see past this ugliness to discover the man inside, the man who worshiped the very air around you. However, your actions have shown me that it was impossible, so I am now forced to take what you cannot bring yourself to give," Erik turned quickly from her, his fists clenched tightly against his chest in anguish. "Why Christine, why?" He moaned.

By now Christine was moved to tears, she had been the cause of so much of his pain. None of which she had ever intended or could now take back. Maybe, just maybe, she could change his mind, convince him somehow that her love was truly genuine. She must find the right words, his happiness, as well as hers, depended on it.

"Erik," She began, walking towards him. "I am so sorry for any hurt I have caused you. I swear to you that I never meant it," her hand came to rest on his shoulder, he stiffened at her touch. "If you would please just let me explain, we could clear everything up."

"Explain what? How you pity me?" Erik asked, turning to face her. "I think I would rather have your hatred than your pity, Christine." His eyes turned cold once more. "Never the less, be it pity or not, it is now your fate Christine, for I will never let you go."

It was these words that assaulted Raoul's ears as he crested the water, climbing up on to the bank at the far end of the room. He had no idea how he had been fortunate enough to have found the two of them, call it a miracle or blind luck, he didn't care which, just that he had. Raoul tried to be as quiet as possible, inching his way across the floor but when you are soaking wet it is a difficult task.

Erik's attention was still completely centered on Christine, but he had spent too many years alone in his underground lair not to know the instant when something was different. Turning around he spotted Raoul as he silently advanced towards him. Raoul stopped dead in his tracks, his presence discovered.

"Look, my dear," Erik said dryly to Christine. "I believe we have company." Then directing his attention to Raoul he continued. "Monsieur, I have to admit that this is indeed surprise. While I never doubted your attempts to find the girl, I am quite impressed that you actually made it all the way down here without getting yourself killed. No matter though, for you shall still die."

"Set her free!" Raoul shouted, a mixture between threat and plea. "I offer myself in return, do as you like with me, only free Christine. Have you no compassion at all?"

"Compassion? I never received any in my lifetime…why should I bother to reciprocate?" He asked sarcastically.

"Raoul please just go. You can't help me here and it is useless to try. This is something I must do on my own," she said, knowing that his presence would do more harm than good. She could never convince Erik of her love as long as he was there to throw a monkey wrench in the works.

"What do you want me to say? Do you wish for me to beg?" Raoul asked, ignoring Christine and her words, speaking directly to Erik. "I will do anything you ask. Just please let her go."

"No, she is mine!" Erik pointed out furiously.

Raoul saw that his pleas were falling on a heart of stone. He began to see the futility of his charging headlong into this mission without so much as a pocket knife as a weapon.

"Please let me speak with her at least," he asked, wanting to comfort Christine who he thought to be terrified.

Erik stepped aside from Christine with a bow, extending his hand invitingly.

"Be my guest, Monsieur," he offered, clearing the path as Raoul approached Christine cautiously, never taking his eyes off of Erik. "I sincerely hope that you did not think I would have harmed her, my good man. Contrary to popular belief I am no animal without reason or conscience."

Just before he was able to reach her, Erik sprang forward, quick as a striking snake, and grabbed the boy by the back of his collar and pulled him around to face him, his other hand now around the Vicomte's throat. Christine gave a cry and stepped forward but stopped as Erik turned a halting glare at her.

"One more step and he dies," Erik threatened, turning his attention back to the man in front of him who was gasping for breath and clawing at the hand that was shutting off his windpipe. This man was the cause of all Erik's suffering and pain. Raoul had come into this world with wealth and privilege, not to mention flawless features and charm. He could have had anyone, women were probably falling at his feet, and yet he had set his sights on Christine…his Christine. Where was the fairness in that? He hated this boy with a burning passion and he wanted nothing more than to squeeze the life out of him, and yet the look in Christine's eyes was now overpowering his anger, his need for revenge.

With a cry like a wounded animal, Erik pulled back his fist and struck Raoul solidly across the chin, sending the man reeling backwards and falling to the floor, his hand going immediately to his jaw where the line of blood down trickled from his split lip. Before he could rise or Christine could react, Erik quickly pulled at a lever on the wall beside him. Raoul looked up just in time so see a huge iron cage fall from a suspending chain around him, trapping him inside and separating him from Christine.

"Raoul!" Christine shouted, running forward and falling on her knees as she reached her hands through the bars at him. "Why did you come, why didn't you stay where you were safe?"

"Yes Monsieur, why didn't you?" Erik asked tauntingly coming over to the cage. "Now there is nothing that can save you. Nothing except...Christine," as he said this he walked towards her, his hand reaching out to take hold of her arm, pulling her up as he drew her away from Raoul's grasp.

"Christine no!" Raoul cried, his hands stretching through the bars at her. "Don't listen to him, don't give in."

"Say you will stay with me forever and I will let him live, Christine," Erik promised. "His freedom comes at the price of your love . A refusal will end his pitiful existence on this earth. It is all up to you, Christine."

"Christine don't do it. He will never let you go, and he can never let me live because he knows I will never give up." Raoul shook the bars madly.

Erik continued determinedly, as if Raoul had not spoken.

"So what is your decision? Your love or his life?"

"For pity sake Christine, say no!" Raoul shouted.

"You try my patients, boy!" Erik said, silencing Raoul with a deadly look. His eyes softened though when he looked back at Christine. "This is now the true point of no return for you, Christine. Make your choice."

Christine looked from Raoul to Erik, her mind completely confused. She cared deeply for Raoul and though she wished for no harm to come to him, it was Erik that she had fallen in love with. Yet the man who stood before her was not acting like the Erik she knew. This man seemed to be controlled by a possessive madness. The Erik she loved was kind and gentle and he would never kill anyone, not even Raoul. As she looked into his eyes she knew he was in there somewhere, hiding behind a mask of threats and fierce control. Christine could think of only one way to draw him back out, to make him see he was not the monster he was trying so hard to play. She would call his bluff. She stepped back, tearing herself from his hold.

"I don't believe you! I don't believe a word you just said. The Erik I know could never be this cold, this heartless and unfeeling. You may fool, some people into believing you are this evil Phantom, but I know differently, I know the real Erik inside." Christine lifted her chin in defiance and stepped towards him. "If I am wrong, if you truly mean to kill someone should I refuse your offer, then start with me. Kill me if you can Erik."

Erik stared blankly at Christine. Oh how she knew him so well.

Was he as transparent as glass to her all-seeing eyes, was he that much of an open book? He had tried to deceive her, frighten her into submission, yet here she stood defiantly before him. Daring him to prove her wrong… but they both knew she was right. He would never have permanently harmed Raoul, he didn't know what he would have done with him, but he certainly wouldn't have killed him. He was now not even sure if he would have been able to carry out his plan to keep Christine. He would have come to his senses eventually. Her ultimatum had just made him realize his folly all the sooner. Erik began to laugh softly as he shook his head sadly.

"You are right, my darling. Idol threats were all they were. To cause you any more pain would mean my life, and I find I can no longer bare to have you look at me through eyes filled with fear," he reached into his pocket and tossed the key to the cage door at Raoul. "Free yourself Monsieur, a cage is no place for a man," Erik said as Raoul worked frantically at the lock, a look of surprise coming to his face as the door actually swung open. "Take the boat and go. Christine is free to leave as well. Take the river until you see a lit torch then follow the pathway up to the surface. It will take you out the exit at the graveyard, just be careful for the trip wire at the end and you will be safe. Christine knows the way from there."

Raoul was still uncertain as to whether this was another trick of his or actually real. He would feel a lot better if Christine would just step away from Erik and come over to him.

Erik looked down at Christine. The old saying now came back to haunt him. 'To keep her, he would have to let her go'. Yet no matter how many times it ran around in his mind it gave him no comfort. In giving up Christine, he was giving up his life. His hand reached out to gently touch her cheek one last time.

"You knew all along, didn't you? Everything I said was a lie, neither you or Raoul would have come to any harm at my hands. Your words to me proved this." Erik turned and walked away resolutely. "Is there anything that your wise little heart does not know?" He asked quietly.

"Yes." Christine answered. "My heart does not know how to stop loving you."

Her words froze Erik's steps, his mind went numb. Could he have possibly misunderstood?

Raoul came to Christine's side.

"Christine, what are you saying? We are free, let's go now." He said insistently, pulling her towards the boat.

"No, Raoul!" She yelled, pushing him away. "I am sick and tired of you telling me what to do! At every turn you have been there, manipulating my thoughts and words until even I began to doubt my true feelings. It ends now. I know my own mind, and I will speak it. So get away from me and keep silent for once!"

Raoul was genuinely shocked and took a few steps back. Christine had changed from a little girl who he thought needed his protection to a fierce lioness in the turning of a moment.

"I am not going anywhere. Not until I have had my say and things are cleared up. I can't go on like this, my mind and heart pulled in two," she turned from Raoul's shocked stare and walked to Erik, who remained where he stood, his back still facing her. "I have no idea what this will accomplish Erik, but I have to say it. There has been so many misunderstandings, so much lost time that I don't know if we can go back. Or, for that matter, if you even want to go back, but I need you to know that never once did I purposefully betray you…and I never stopped loving you. Even when you made it painfully clear that you hated me by putting the snake in my dressing room. Even then I couldn't bring myself to stop these feelings I have for you." She finished quietly, her last words catching in her throat

Erik spun around to face her, his expression of confusion was not expected by Christine.

"What snake? What are you talking about?" He asked abruptly.

"The one I found in the box. The one you left after my performance the night of my return to the Opera," she reminded him, as if it were a matter one would easily forget.

"I left no snake, or a box," he insisted. "I left you a note asking you to meet me, along with a rose. Are you saying you never received it?"

"No, I did not. There was no note, no rose. Only a box with a snake in it," her mind was awhirl with questions.

"The night you sang, my heart accompanied you. I had feared I had lost you up till then, but your words took away that pain, replacing it with hope. I was desperate to know if you had meant what you sang, so I left a note for you on your dressing table, asking you to meet me at the lake by the grave yard if there was truly a chance left for us," Erik explained.

"When I didn't come you thought I didn't care?" Her heart went out to him, imagining how such the realization would have hurt him "I would have been there Erik. I would have come if I had received such a note, but I swear that I got no such letter."

"And I sent no such deadly gift!" He assured her, the two looking at each other in complete puzzlement.

Raoul all the while had been watching as his treachery was revealed. Had he truly been so manipulative, caused so much trouble? It had all begun so innocently, yet one lie seemed to compound on another until he had become overwhelmed. Christine honestly did love Erik, and he her. He had done a terrible thing and his only recompense now was to try and make things right.

Stepping forward, he cleared his throat nervously, knowing that his next words could easily mean his life at the hands of the soon to be enraged Erik.

"I…I have a confession to make, one that will clear up any confusion in this matter." He began, gaining their attention. "It was all my doing. I admit that I now see how wrong I was, that even though I convinced myself I was doing it all for you Christine, it was actually for me. I didn't take into consideration your feelings, that you may have actually been in possession of your senses when you said you loved him. It was very vain and selfish of me not to see that you could choose some Phantom of a man over me. I was wrong Christine, very wrong. I now beg of you two to somehow forgive me." He now knew just how Erik must have felt when he believed Christine had betrayed him, for he now feared her hatred more than Erik's wrath.

"Then you know what became of the letter I left for Christine?" Erik asked, his eyes narrowing as his mind now beginning to see the entire picture.

"As well as the true origins of the snake?" Christine asked, finding it hard to believe all she was hearing.

"Yes, I do. I planned to remove any gifts or letter he may have sent you that night Christine, in hopes that you may give up in your attempts to reach him. However, I swear that I had nothing to do with the snake you found. I had made the grievous error of employing Joseph Buquet to do the actual deed while I kept you away from your room to give him time. It was his idea, totally unbeknownst to me, to replace Erik's letter with the snake. I assure you that I let my fist voice my displeasure of such a thoughtless act. Regardless, it was still my initial idea, I instigated the deception and I alone should shoulder the blame. I now throw myself on your mercy." He lowered his head in shame, knowing the pain and suffering he had caused the two.

Christine had covered her face in disbelief, her shoulders shaking, and Erik could not tell if it was from anger or because she was crying.

Erik tried to analyze his feelings. He had every right to be furious with Raoul, to be enraged beyond belief, but oddly enough he wasn't. As he looked at the repentant and dejected Raoul he no longer saw an arch enemy or hated rival. He saw a mirror image of himself, not in appearance... but position. He too had loved Christine, fought and lied to keep her. They had both thought of themselves, put their desires above hers. Raoul was obviously deeply sorry for his actions, as was Erik, and he found himself feeling strangely akin to him instead of hating him. He had always secretly admired the young Vicomte, never daring to admit it even to himself.

Christine looked up at Raoul through tear filled eyes.

"All these months you led me to believe that Erik hated me? Six months I awoke each morning thinking my life was over without his love and you never said a word! How could you? Damn you, Raoul!" She cried angrily. Christine lunged at him, her fists aching to strike him until he felt the pain she had suffered, but Erik's hands restrained her, holding her back.

"No Christine, don't give into hate. He is not the only one to blame. I too have made errors in judgment, adding to this fiasco. I can see that his reasons were the same as mine. We did it all out of love for you. Misguided though our actions may have been, our motives were pure. If you cannot find it in your heart to forgive him, how can I ever ask you to forgive me?" Erik reasoned with her.

"He is right Christine, we have both been cads, but now I intend to make it all up to you. Tell me what you wish and I will honor and support your decision. There will be no further interference from me and I offer any assistance I can give." Raoul vowed, shocked by Erik's unexpected words of understanding. Perhaps the man behind the mask was not quite the horrible monster he had always believed him to be.

"Yes Christine, we are both ready to abide by_ your _decision. Your future is in your hands, we stand by as mere slaves to aid you along on your assent to happiness. You have but to speak and it shall be done." Erik assured her.

Christine glanced from Raoul to Erik. The expressions of eagerness on their faces told her they meant every word. She looked deeply inside her heart, searching the innermost depths for the key to her true desire. She turned to Raoul, her look of anger replace by compassion.

"Raoul, you who have been so dear to me since childhood. I can't deny the bond that has formed between us, for I feel it each time you are near." She reached up to embrace him tightly, causing Erik to look away in pain. "Things could have been great for us, except for one thing… I love another and that will never change. I hope you can understand this, and forgive me if I ever led you to believe we could have ever shared more."

Raoul smiled sadly, but looked understandingly down at her. Leaning forward he kissed her softly on the cheek.

"From now on your happiness is all I wish for. Though I regret losing you, it couldn't have been to a more worthy opponent." He looked over at the stunned man and gave him a nod of acknowledgment and admired defeat.

Christine walked back over to Erik, her eyes not daring to look into his.

"It is all up to you now. With one word you can end my waking nightmare," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Erik was speechless. Here before him was his beloved Christine, offering herself, heart and soul to him. He found himself expecting to awaken from such a wondrous dream. So many times he had wished for a moment such as this, but now that it was truly here, it surpassed any and all of his deepest fantasies. He now knew all the joy the world had to offer. He had Christine's heart. Yet he remained unsure.

"What can I offer you Christine? What do you see ahead for us, what kind of life?" He asked, his heart pounding inside his chest.

"I don't need much Erik. Two strong arms to hold me, a voice to tell me I am loved, two ears to hear my hopes and fears…and a heart to love me," she suggested.

"Then take mine, dear lady, for it was ever at your service." Erik moaned, and unable to contain his joy any further took her fiercely in his strong embrace. Christine too clung to him as if never to let him go. It was Erik who pulled away first, doubt once again troubling his eyes. "What about this?" He asked, gesturing to his face. "Can you live with the knowledge of what lies behind this mask.?"

Christine smiled up at him, no regret or fear in her eyes.

"I love you Erik. Never has your appearance caused me a moment of fear or indecision." Reaching up she gently removed his mask, her love for him overflowing in her eyes in the form of tears. As she raised her lips to meet his, Erik felt sure that he would die at that moment from pure joy and love. For now he knew the true meaning of the eternal phrase…'Love is blind.'

Raoul too was moved to tears at the loving display before him and he turned away, feeling much like an intruder on this tender scene. He only hoped that he too could find such happiness shared by Christine and Erik.

When their passionate kiss ended, Erik replaced his mask, out of habit as well as respect for Raoul. Christine had opened the door of freedom from it, but he was not yet prepared to step all the way through. Old ghosts, and Phantoms, were hard to put to rest.

"Are you sure this is truly what you want Christine? Make certain, for once you have spoken, I fear I may never let you go," Erik warned.

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life. You just try and get rid of me," she dared him.

"Then it is settled, but first you must accompany Raoul back up to the Opera House," Erik instructed her, heading for the boat.

"What? Why?" Christine asked, confused at his request.

"We are not safe here as long as the world thinks you are still missing," Erik told her, not wishing to part with her for even a second, but knowing it was the only way.

"He is right,." Raoul agreed. "Meg knows where I have gone and there are those who will follow should you fail to return."

"Once they are satisfied of your safety, you can meet me by the lake. I have no place in your world Christine, can you resign yourself to live exclusively in mine?" He asked, wanting her to be absolutely sure.

Christine came and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"As long as we are together Erik, it doesn't matter to me where we live. They say home is where the heart is, and mine is with you...forever."

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**Are we happy now? Am I forgiven? And like I promised, no more misunderstandings that will keep our lovers apart. There is more to come though, so tune in Monday to find out what happens next.**

**Now, please tell me what you thought about Erik's forgiveness of Raoul. Hee hee.**


	19. Chapter 19

**I am BAAAAACCCCKKKKK! So, gentle audience…just a little more fun and excitement for our happy couple – I can't just let them ride off into the sunset without one last hurrah, can I? **

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CHAPTER 19

_FEAR, FIRE AND PHANTOM_

Erik now helped Christine into the boat, a confidant smile on his lips. He now knew he need never worry about the faithfulness of her love, she would return to him, he did not doubt this.

The trip back up the river was much more pleasant for all three than when they had come down. For one, Raoul was inside this time not in the dark water, and this time there was much talk of happy plans between Erik and Christine. Because the passage way to Christine's room had been blocked, Erik led them up another tunnel that came out through the trap door on the stage, the same one he had spirited Christine away through earlier that night. The stage was now deserted so Erik dared step out ahead, aiding Christine as she followed.

"I admit that you had me quite baffled by your mysterious disappearance, Erik." Raoul said as he too climbed through the door.

Erik liked the way Raoul now referred to him as a man, opposed to 'monster' or 'villain'. Yet, before Erik could respond, the curtain at the far end of the stage was thrust aside and a very pale, red eyed Meg appeared.

Though her eyes grazed over Christine and Erik, it wasn't until they came to rest on Raoul that a look of joyous relief come over her, as she ran straight away into his arms. This time there was no question in Raoul's mind as he kissed her gently, their laughter mingling as he wiped away her tears.

Erik leaned down to whisper in Christine's ear.

"Jealous?" He asked, half joking, half holding his breath for fear of the answer she might give.

Christine smiled up at him.

"No. I am happy for them, and a bit relieved. I am glad Raoul can finely see what was before his eyes all along."

Meg pulled away from Raoul suddenly, as if remembering that Christine was there. Her eyes grew wide with shock and shame at what she had so presumptuously done in her moment of blind relief.

"Christine, forgive me. I didn't mean to…I never meant…" she stammered, her face turning crimson.

Christine laughed kindly, taking Meg's hands in hers.

"You have nothing to explain sweet Meg. I have known the truth about your feelings for Raoul for some time. The two of you were meant for each other and I give you both my blessing," she placed Meg's hand in Raoul's, her heart glad as they looked at each other happily. "I hope you find such happiness as Erik and I have."

Meg now glanced beyond Christine at Erik, a look of surprise coming to her face.

Christine pulled him forward slightly, eager to formally introduce the two.

"Meg, I would like you to meet Erik. Erik, I am sure you remember Meg Giry," she said.

Erik stepped forward and taking her hand kissed it gallantly.

"It is indeed most pleasurable to finely make you acquaintance gently lady. Your exquisite dancing has brought me hours of pleasure in the past and I now have the opportunity to thank you properly," Erik told Meg, his voice so deep and alluring that she blushed again in spite of herself.

"Why thank you, Monsieur…Erik," she said, not quite knowing how to react.

"Now, now Erik," Raoul warned jokingly. "I shall not stand for you wooing yet another lady from me right under my nose."

"Neither shall I," Christine said, taking hold of his arm possessively. "You will find that I am a jealous mistress, Erik dear."

Meg looked at the two of them together, the pure exchange of adoration speaking volumes.

"So everything is all right between the two of you?" She asked hopefully. For though she knew this meant Raoul was free, she found her joy at Christine's restored happiness just as great.

"Things couldn't be better. I think that things have finely began to turn our way at last," Christine said, her eyes bright with delight.

Yet as always, she spoke too soon. For at the moment from up on the second floor there came a scream. The four looked up in time to see several people, two of which were Monsieur Andre and Firmin, crowd there way frantically into Box 5. At first they could not understand their looks of terror and panic, but the glimpse of flames and the dreadful smell of smoke soon revealed the reason. There was a fire in the second floor hallway, apparently blocking off any escape, forcing the small group to take refuge in Box 5. But the fire would soon follow and there was no escape, they had in essence backed themselves into a corner. They could have jumped, but it was a long way down and there were several older gentlemen in the crowd, as well as what looked to be a very pregnant lady. For them, jumping was not an option.

Their cries of terror intensified as the flames licked a the tapestries by the Box door, sending the woman into near hysterics. Christine grabbed Erik's arm in terror.

"They will die up there!" She cried.

"We must get a ladder," Raoul suggested. "Come with me Erik, there should be one somewhere back stage," he started to head away but Erik stopped him.

"No, there is no time. The flames are spreading too fast," he pointed out, and they were. The fire was already beginning to climb up the wall on the inside of the box, the men frantically beating at it with their coats. "I know a better way," Erik offered. "There is a secret passage that leads out of Box 5 and if I can reach them in time they can escape."

Raoul nodded, putting complete faith in Erik. He then called up to the frightened group in the Box.

"Andre, Firmin! Don't worry, help is on the way."

The two of them, as well as others, looked down on the stage. Several gasps escaped their lips at the sight of the Phantom standing on the stage so brazenly. Andre, overwhelmed with fear and rage, pointed a finger at Erik.

"It is all the Phantom's doing'. He is to blame, he is trying to punish us again!" He turned and pulled a man from the middle of the crowd, dragging him to the edge of the Box.

From down on the stage Raoul saw that it was Jack he had called over, and to his horror, Raoul saw that he still had his pistol in hispossession. His face grew white as he saw Jack raise the gun on Andre's command.

"Shoot now before he disappears again!" Andre was heard to say.

Raoul gave a desperate cry, his words echoing around the room.

"Jack no! Don't do it!" However, it was a request made in vain.

Christine also looked in disbelief as Jack took aim, the deadly sights resting on Erik. She instantly jumped in front of him in an effort to protect the man she loved more than life itself, but Erik was too quick for her. His reflexes were almost superhuman, but he had to make a choice. Should he remove Christine from danger or dodge the bullet himself? He had only time to do one of the two, but there was no question as to his choice, the answer come in less than a heartbeat. He pushed Christine aside just as the shot rang out from Box 5.

Erik felt the searing pain as the bullet ripped through his shoulder, missing it's intended target, his heart, by scant inches. He was thrown back by the sheer force of the blow, landing hard on the stage floor. His hand went instantly to the wound, a red stain already beginning to show against his white shirt.

"Erik!" Christine cried as she flew to his side. "Oh my darling, what have they done!"

Raoul jumped in front of the two, blocking the path should another bullet follow. He was now quite glad that Jack's marksmanship had been highly overrated.

"Hold you fire, you fool. Hold your fire do you hear?" He could see that Jack was now slapping at the revolver, it had apparently jammed, there would not be a second shot.

Erik began to rise, mostly in attempts to quiet Christine's fears that he was on death's door. Getting to his feet was difficult and far more painful that he could have imagined, but he managed. Blood was now beginning to trickle between his fingers and though he gave Christine a week smile, his eyes were glazed over by the pain the bullet had caused as it tore through both fabric and flesh.

"Erik, please lie back down and be still, we will fetch a doctor. Everything will be fine, my love," Christine told him, trying to convince herself as much as him.

"I will be all right," Erik insisted. "But they will die if I do not save them. Time is running out," he took a step towards the stage curtain, faltering slightly as he leaned on Christine for support.

"Let me go," Raoul volunteered, seeing Erik's difficulty. "Tell me where this passage is and I will lead them out."

"That would take too long. You would become lost, disoriented in the dark. I must go," Erik said, straitening.

Raoul saw the determined look in his eyes as Erik drew himself erect, fighting against the pain and weakness. Raoul`s admiration for Erik grew leaps and bounds at that moment.

"Tell me what to do to help," he offered, no longer arguing with him.

"Prepare them for my arrival, convince them to follow me. There will be little or no time for indecision once I reach them," As he turned to go he looked back, his sense of humor coming through even in the face of a crisis. "Also see what you can do about discouraging them from firing again. I'm afraid it greatly hampers my progress."

Christine, who had not left his side. looked up at him with pride tinged with fear. She knew he had to go, but she feared he may never return. Not only was he heading into danger with the fire, but the pain from his wound may overtake him in the tunnels and he may die there, for he was the only one who knew their secret location. She reached up to hold him, careful for his shoulder.

"Be careful Erik, I couldn't stand it if I lost you now," she told him, trying her best to put up a brave front.

Erik nodded his understanding, and leaning down he quickly kissed her before he hurried towards the back of the stage.

Meg came at once to Christine's side, hugging her tightly.

"Don't worry Christine, he is strong and brave. One bullet is no match for the Opera Ghost."

Christine wished she shared her friends confidence, but when you love someone, rational thinking usually flies out the window.

Raoul stood away from the two and yelled up to the people in the soon to be engulfed Box.

"Firmin!" He called, thinking maybe he would be the more rational of the two managers. He had always been the one more willing to abide by Erik's ghostly requests in the past, if Raoul could get him to believe, the others may follow. "Firmin listen' The Phantom is here to help you. He is willing to lead you to safety if you will trust him enough to follow. I have complete faith in his actions Firmin, and I beg of you to listen to him!"

Firmin's eyes grew wide with fear at the idea, but Raoul saw him give a shaking nod. It seemed his long standing fearful awe of Erik was at the moment overshadowed by the eminent fire licking at the Box door, and at that moment he would have followed just about anyone who offered escape.

Meg in the meantime ran to sound the alarm, sending a stage hand to fetch the Fire Marshal, she returned quickly though, not wishing to miss the daring rescue.

Erik had faltered only once in the tunnels, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. He must not give into the pain, he must not stop, the lives of the people now trapped in Box 5 depended on it. As he approached the secret door he could hear the screams of the people behind it and it strengthened his resolve. Bracing himself from the pain he slid the door aside, causing everyone to cry out and shrink back from him. Though it had been expected and what he had cultivated in them over the years, Erik suddenly found himself extremely weary of the fear people displayed towards him.

"Come with me," Erik said insistently. "This tunnel will lead you to safety. It is your only chance."

They all continued to stare at him, too frightened to move or speak. Erik feared they may all remain, frozen like fools, preferring to meet their deaths by fire instead of accepting a Phantom's rescue. Yet suddenly, though his legs and hands shook visibly with apprehension, Monsieur Firmin stepped forward.

"You have never caused anyone physical harm, including me, so I do not see why you would start now. I put my trust in you Monsieur, I will follow," the frazzled manager said firmly, if not confidently.

Erik smiled at the brave man, he always did have a unique respect for Firmin. Of the two managers, he seemed to be the more sensible.

Reaching over, Erik yanked a small curtain down from the wall, rod and all, and wrapping the red cloth around one end of the metal stick he touched it to the incoming flames creating a make shift torch. He then handed it to Firmin, gesturing towards the passageway.

"Lead the way Monsieur, I will bring up the rear. Stay to your left at all times, do not take any tunnels forking to the right. I have left the door at the other end open and it will bring you out onto the stage. Go quickly, time is running thin!" Erik instructed, the urgency in his voice compounded by the heat of the growing flames.

Firmin headed bravely into the small tunnel, the rest of the group following nervously behind, each eying Erik warily as they passed him. All had followed except one man and the pregnant woman. She clung to the banister at the far end of the Box, her eyes shut tight and cries of uncontrollable fear paralyzing her. In her mind she had resigned herself to her death and nothing her husband said could convince her to release her hold and follow the group to safety.

Erik took a second to glance down at the stage, his eyes met Christine's as she waited helplessly far below. His heart longed to be with her, to comfort her growing fear. Though Erik desired to rush to Christine's side, he went instead to the frantic woman and her distraught husband.

"She won't let go!" He cried to the mysterious masked man, not knowing what to do. "When I try to pry her loose by force she fights so violently I fear she may hurt herself and the baby."

Erik placed his hand on her shaking shoulder and in his softest, most musical tone spoke to her, his voice instantly having a calming and hypnotic effect.

"Madame, you must depart from here, it is not safe. Through that door lies safety. Listen to my voice and trust me. Follow me and you shall save not only the life of yourself and you devoted husband, but that of your baby as well. For the sake of your child Madame, follow me."

The man was taken aback by the transformation that came over his wife at the sound of Erik's voice. He too found himself completely overcome with a sense of safety that Erik's words instilled in him. His wife ceased shaking and when she opened her eyes, they were calm and rational. She placed her hand protectively on her stomach and offered her other hand to Erik, allowing him to assist her to her feet.

"Yes Monsieur, you are quite right," she said, her words filled with determination. "This is no place for my child," so with no further resistance she allowed herself to be led towards the small door, just as the flames began to consume the elegant tapestries over their heads.

Down on the stage Christine let loose the pent up breath she had held in frantic anticipation. From where she stood she had watched the flames come dangerously close to her Erik, threatening his life with each passing second, but now he was safely inside the tunnel, on his way back to her arms.

Firmin emerged first from the secret door in the stage wall, followed by a coughing but extremely grateful crowd. They all watched in transfixed horror as the curtains and decorative panel gave way in the ceiling of the Box, crashing down where they had stood not half a minute ago. Christine ran to the door, waiting anxiously for any sign of Erik. A cheer of relief and joy rang out among the crowd as the final three appeared out of the door. Erik released his assisting hand from the woman, relinquishing her to her husband, while he closed the secret door, trapping the growing smoke in the tunnels.

Christine ran to him and as she touched him she felt his strength give away, causing him to slide to the floor. He rested his back against the wall, giving Christine a tired and pained smile.

"I feared I would not hold out this long," he said, reaching up to touch her face. "Yet I had to return, if only to see these shining eyes of love once more. You are my life Christine Daae, without you I am nothing."

"Without you, I _have_ no life," she returned, bringing her hand up to hold his, savoring his touch. She then turned to the group who stood nearby, half of which were staring at them, the other half watching the firemen, who had at last arrived, fighting to control the flames. "Please fetch a doctor," she pleaded.

Several turned to do as she bid, but were halted as a man stepped from among them announcing that he was a doctor. He even had a small bag with him for emergencies, something that became almost an extension of his arm once he took the Hippocratic oath that accompanied his profession.

Kneeling down at Erik's side next to Christine, he set to work. By the time the fire had been completely extinguished, the Opera House no longer in danger of total destruction, Erik had been sufficiently patched up. The bullet had gone straight through, hitting no vital organs or main arteries and now that the bleeding had been stopped, Erik could feel his strength returning. The doctor complimented him on his power to have remained coherent and conscious as long as he had. He also expressed his undying gratitude at saving his life from the fire.

This brought an awkward moment for Erik, not used to being the recipient of such praise and heartfelt thanks, but he managed an acceptable nod and a week reply of 'you're welcome' that seemed to satisfy the doctor.

The husband and wife were the next to show their appreciation for Erik's bravery. Though the wife was extremely grateful to him for saving the life of her and her child, it was her husband who was bubbling over with words of gratitude.

"That was a splendid show of heroism if I ever saw one. This certainly blows any remaining myths and misconceptions about a mysterious Phantom clean out of the water. My paper has endeavored to keep up with your growing ghostly fame and exploits over the years, but tomorrow's headline will sing your praises Monsieur. On the morrow all of Paris will know of your generous and unselfish act of heroism. This I swear!" He said, shaking Erik's hand enthusiastically.

Erik couldn't believe his good fortune. He had been given the gift of Christine's love and went from 'villain' and 'monster' to 'hero'' and "man of the hour' in one nights time. It seemed that his life was now turning out for the better, as if he had been a condemned frog transformed into a prince by Christine's magical kiss. This night, Erik felt, could not have concluded more differently than his original plan…but in fact it was turning out much better. Still, what occurred next took him completely by surprise. Firmin, leading a reluctant Andre who was obviously ashamed by the part he played in Erik's injury, approached him.

"Monsieur, in regret for our past and present stupidity…" Firmin looking at Andre sternly when he mentioned the word 'present'. "Not to mention our sincerest gratitude for your rescue of our humble lives, Andre and I have a proposition for you," Firmin began, nudging Andre, prompting him to continue.

"Oh Monsieur," Andre began in a deeply apologetic wail. "If you can ever find it in yourself to forgive my rash and brainless actions, too see your way clear to overlooking the foolishness of an idiotic man, to bestow upon me your undeserved kindness, to…" he may have continued on unending, his pleading tone beginning to rake on Erik's already frayed nerves, but Firmin cut in calmly.

"What my blathering associate is so ineptly trying to say is that we wish to offer you a partnership in the management of the Opera House. As you quite often pointed out, Andre and I are indeed inadequate when it comes to directing several aspects dealing with the running of this establishment. Upon reflection we cannot come up with a more suited or qualified person for the job than you. After all you are quite familiar with the ins and outs of the Opera House as well as the temperament of the employees, much more so than either of us. We would find it quite advantageous, as well as profitable, if you would consider to contribute your knowledge and talents towards the restoration and continued success of the Opera House. It would not take much paper work to make you a full partner, after all you are already on salary," Firmin finished, a gleam of humor coming to his eyes.

Erik was flabbergasted, this was a far more gracious offer than he had imagined. For years on end the Opera House had been his only obsession… before Christine. Now here he was, being offered a say in how it was to be run. No more ghostly notes need carry his requests and demands to the proper ears, no more threats of disastrous consequences should his orders not be obeyed. He could speak openly and with authority. He looked over at Christine, the joy and surprise at such an offer mirroring his own in her eyes. This could also mean a new life for the two of them. Could he now hope to live above ground as normal people? To safely leave his subterranean sanctuary that had become as lonely as a prison to him, and live in the glory of the sunlight and Christine's love? There may be troubles ahead, the fears of people were still an obstacle to overcome, but Erik longed so much for even a chance, that he couldn't refuse.

With some effort and Christine's help, Erik stood, coming to his full powerfully commanding stature. He extended his hand to Firmin.

"With the deepest respect for your generosity and forgiveness in the light of our past relations, I gratefully accept your charitable offer," Erik said sincerely, as Firmin shook his proffered hand and shook it enthusiastically.

Andre, who had now recovered and was beaming with joy, in turn shook on the magnanimous merger.

"As for this," Erik told Andre, gesturing to his bandaged shoulder. "Think no more of it. I believe it is the least I deserve for all the past troubles I caused you. I do not blame you in the least for imagining I may have set the fire, but believe me, destroying the Opera House to avenge myself would have been quite self-defeating. I have no idea as to how the fire may have started," Erik assured the two men

"It is quite true," Raoul interjected, wishing to support Erik's defense. "He was completely distracted with Christine and I the entire time. There was no way he could have started it."

"We of course see this now," Andre said. "I admit it was a foolish idea at the time, said by an equally foolish man. We will just have to wait and see if the Fire Marshal can shed some light on this mysterious subject."

They didn't have to wait long, for at that moment the before mentioned Marshal came out upon the stage accompanied by a reluctant Joseph Buquet and stern looking Madame Giry.

"Here is the culprit," he announced, pushing Joseph forward. "With the help of Madame Giry we followed the trail of destruction back to its source. We found this man passed out drunk in the hall closet, his bottle which had fallen from his grasp had leaked out under the door, soaking the carpet. A careless spark from his cigar had apparently ignited it. He slept through the entire scene, quite unaware of his own danger should the flames have not been put out," the Marshal finished.

"I had spotted the old sot earlier working his way through that infernal flask he always carries. Many times I have warned him of the evil of drink and the ends to which it would lead him!" Madame Giry said, looking sternly at the bleary eyed Buquet.

"What shall I do with him?" The Marshal asked.

"Do whatever the law will allow! I intend to press any and all charges I can," Andre ordered, then looking at Buquet. "You can consider yourself discharged from your position, and if you ever set foot on this property again you will regret it."

Joseph may have complained more or fired off some more colorful words as the Fire Marshal drug him away, but he was just too drunk to try.

With the mystery solved there were no more lingering suspicions in any one's mind as to whether Erik had caused the accident. Those in the crowd who had still had their doubts now came forward with words of appreciation and praise for Erik. Christine noted that the majority of them were either newspaper men or people of high importance in the community. There was no doubt in her mind that Erik was well on his way to being accepted back into the society that had shunned him since birth.

After all the excitement had died down and most of the people had gone home, Erik, Christine, Raoul, Meg, the two managers and Madame Giry stood alone on the stage looking at the demolished Box 5.

"We are extremely glad to have you aboard Erik," Andre said. "I'm just sorry it had to be now when all there is ahead are troubles and bills."

However, Erik was not seeing the blackened charred remains of the once lavish Box, or the equally destroyed hallway adjoining it. Neither was he thinking about the stack of bills, demanding cast members or the fickle patrons. He was admiring the Opera House as it should be, as it would someday become under his masterful and skilled hands. It would be the shinning masterpiece of Pairs. Erik had no doubt at all of this. For as long as he had his dearest Christine beside him, as she stood now in his loving and protective embrace, there was nothing in the world that lay beyond his capabilities.

.

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**Hey, Erik's life is looking up! Only two more chapters after this one and then we will close the book on The Phantom Triumphant!**

**So how did you like Erik's heroics? **

**Andre and Firmin's offer?**

**Meg and Raoul?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Now for the fluff and sweetness….**

Chapter 20

_A NEW LIFE_

In the months that followed, the Opera House did thrive. Erik seemed to be the answer to the two manager's prayers. Their jobs were all but cut in half, for Erik was eager to be everywhere and see to everything, during the repairs to the burnt areas. He volunteered to oversee every detail, right down to the laying of the carpet. If things kept up the way they were, Andre felt sure he could take that vacation after all.

Each time Erik came up with a new idea the two men marveled at his insight and genius, wondering why they had not thought of such a wonderful suggestion themselves. Erik had indeed been the driving force that turned the Opera House around.

As promised the first performance held, a repeat of Don Juan Triumphant, was free of charge to anyone who had been wise enough to have kept their tickets from the previous production. This time all went well, Erik was content to watch from the newly refurbished Box 5, as Christine performed the part he had created for her to completion. The audience rose amid a thunderous applause as the curtain fell, praising not only the performers but also the playwright. Yet, Erik saw only Christine, and applauded for her alone. Raoul had accompanied him that night, sharing the famous box with him at Erik's invitation. He too clapped loudly for the woman he loved, but this time, that woman was Meg. The two men had grown quite tolerant of each other over the short period of time, now that they were no longer rivals. Erik found it difficult to believe that he had ever wanted to kill Raoul, just as Raoul could not believe he had ever considered Erik a monster.

As for Erik's acceptance, once he had won over the prominent citizens, the majority of Paris soon followed. In fact he became quite popular. I seemed that everyone now wanted to be counted among the privileged few to know this genius of a man who was once been a Phantom. However, most had to remain content to say they had just met him, for though he overcame his initial self-conscious tendency of shying away and now greeted people quite graciously at the Opera House, he kept his circle of friends quite small. Whether it was force of habit, or that he just preferred it that way, who could say, but no one complained and Erik was happy.

He became immensely happier on the evening, two months after that extraordinary night, when he and Christine exchanged their vows in a simple ceremony. No one seemed surprised when they announced that the wedding would be held at night in the park by the lake, facing the graveyard. Everyone had become accustom to the two lovers strange habits, knowing that each thing they did held a special and secret meaning for them. Even when they asked the guests to leave them there alone after the ceremony, no one questioned this odd request. For though Erik had done much to live down his Phantom persona, he still had his secrets and enjoyed keeping them.

So that night, under the summer stars, Erik led his beautiful bride through the graveyard, down the tunnels and up the river to the place they had kept secret. The sight that greeted Christine made her eyes grow wide, lit candles everywhere she looked and a chilled bottle of champagne sat beside the fireplace.

"Does this place bring back unpleasant memories for you, my dear?" Erik asked, suddenly realizing that this was the first time she had been back since the night he had dragged her down as his captive. "If it does, I will take you anywhere you wish to go."

"No, my love. Here is perfect. This place holds nothing but fond memories for me," she assured him, reaching up to gently kiss his lips.

"What about the morning I shouted at you and locked you in your room? I have berated myself a hundred fold over the way I acted, frightening you into your ill-fated escape attempt," he moaned, pulling her close to him as he once more relived that even that pained him so.

"Erik, I did not try to escape because I was afraid of you," Christine told him, pulling back to look up at him. "My only thought was to leave and then return, in order to prove to you that I wished to stay of my own free will. I did not think you would believe my confessions of love while you still held me as your prisoner."

"You…you were not trying to escape me then?" Erik asked, still baffled by her love and acceptance of him. "All this time, I thought you had feared me…that I drove you away with my anger and harsh words of betrayal."

"I will not deny that you were quite fierce that morning…but I knew it was because you thought I had broken my word, that I had acted deceptively and tricked you into revealing your face to me," Christine then reached up and removed his mask, smiling brightly as he allowed her to reach up and caress his scarred flesh. "Yet when I look upon you, my Erik, I see only love. Can you see it as well, mirrored in my eyes?"

"I do…and it is a constant amazement to me. I never knew I could love, and be loved, Christine. You have taught me this miracle." Overcome with emotion, Erik leaned down and swept her off her feet and carried Christine over the threshold of the room he had arranged so lovingly for her almost a year ago.

There down in his underground kingdom, the happy couple began their lives together. Surrendering at last to the overpowering music of the night.

A week later they did resurface and Erik soon began construction on a villa for the two of them. So as not to be separated from his beloved Opera, they purchased the property directly behind it and built it there. It was a grand villa, two stories, a spacious attic, wine cellar, a wrap around verandah and even a landscaped yard for Midnight to explore and play in. Every detail Erik designed in the hopes of delighting Christine.

She had become the center of his universe, everything he did seemed to revolve around her. He had never dreamed life could be so good, that he could ever be so happy and content. There were even times, when they were alone, that he would forget to put his mask on. Christine never gave any indication that she even noticed, and he would only remember it if he chanced to catch his reflection in a mirror or see it lying around. He would laugh in wonder at how a thing that had become such a part of his life could suddenly become so complacent, and all because of Christine. That dear sweet angel of mercy who had saved him from his life of endless solitude. Christine…his _wife_. He prayed each night as he held her tightly in his arms that things would never change, that their life, with which he was completely content, would never be altered. Yet as things must…change crept in on silent feet.

Christine had been on stage, practicing for the night's performance, while Erik was conversing with Andre and Firmin about redesigning the orchestra pit to enhance the carriage of the music to the audience. It was during a particularly high and forceful note that Christine's voice suddenly faltered, causing Erik to look up in shock. For under his tutelage Christine had become a magnificent singer, a true artist in her craft and this type of mishap was unheard of. Erik's puzzlement quickly turned to fear as he watched his frightfully pale wife fall to the floor in faint. Leaping up on the stage he cradled her unconscious form in his arms, terror gripping his heart.

"Fetch a doctor quickly!" He shouted, his orders being obeyed instantaneously, for though he was no longer thought of as a Phantom, he was still a man to be reckoned with.

The doctor arrived quickly and came to Christine's dressing room where Erik had taken her, just in time to see her awaken. Though Erik protested, the doctor ordered everyone to wait outside while he examined his patient, Meg alone was permitted to stay at Christine's request.

Erik was struck with fear. Christine had always enjoyed good health, not even the common cold could hold her down for long. Yet, now she lay in the other room as pale as a ghost and her strength had seemed to have left her. What if she were dying? What if he were to lose her to some incurable malady he could not fight to protect her against. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair, not hearing any words of encouragement everyone around him tried to give. After what seemed like hours the door opened and Meg invited him back in. Meg's face was unreadable so Erik turned to the doctor for answers.

"What is the matter with her?" He asked, his hands shaking noticeably.

"Nothing that is in your hands to control now Monsieur," the doctor said, closing his bag. "Best get used to seeing me quite often from now on, for I shall be calling on your wife quite frequently. I am no miracle worker of course, but I will do all I can to make the experience as painless as possible," he finished, waving his good-byes as he left the room.

Now Erik was more frightened than before. Why did the doctor feel the need to visit Christine often? What experience was he talking about, and why would Christine be forced to suffer any pain? He envisioned Christine as she lay dying from a deadly and painful sickness as he stood by helplessly. Though he was afraid to ask, he had to know, so going to Christine's side he took her hand in his.

"Christine, what did the doctor say? Why did you faint?" He asked, his words pleading for knowledge.

"He said that in a few months' time the Opera House will be forced to find a new diva," she replied calmly, without any sadness one would associate with such an announcement.

"What!" Erik asked, oh it was worse than he though…only a few short months? "Why?"

"Because I feel that it would be in bad taste for a woman who is several months pregnant to be playing the role of Juliet," she answered, matter of factly.

The room became deathly silent and Erik found that his only reaction was letting his jaw drop open so wide that it could have struck the floor.

"A baby?" He whispered when he at last was able to form words. "You are going to have a baby?"

"No, my silly husband, _we _are going to have a baby," she corrected, laying his hand on her still flat stomach.

As he touched the place he now realized held his unborn child he began to smile, then to laugh and finely broke down in tears of joy and relief as he kissed Christine over and over again amid an endless stream of _I love yous_.

A huge celebration was held the following day by Andre and Firmin to announce the upcoming birth, and though Christine was the unofficial guest of honor it was Erik who walked the tallest, laughed the loudest and took most of the credit for just about everything. Some expectant wives may have been angry at such a presumptuous display, but not Christine. She just sat there watching him with amusement and pride.

After the initial dizziness had gone away and Christine went back to her strong and vibrant self, Erik allowed her to return to the stage, but only under his ever constant gaze and only until she began to show evidence of filling out. This came sooner than everyone expected, even the doctor was surprised, who remarked on the healthy size the child would be.

So at the early time of five months, Christine was banned from the stage by Erik. At first he tried his best to keep her quiet and relaxed, not allowing her to lift a finger. All this succeeded in doing was making her mad, causing her to throw several harmless pillows in his direction when he made the asinine suggestion that they hire a maid to wait on her when he was not available.

"I will have no other woman in my house doing the work I am still quite capable of handling myself. Especially not some sexy little chit who would flaunt herself in front of you all day. How could I compete with that when I am so hideously fat? I can't see how you can even stand to look at me!" She shouted, breaking down into uncontrollable tears.

Erik just stared at his sobbing wife. He couldn't believe his ears. The doctor had warned him that she may experience a number of mood swings and say some pretty outlandish things, but this was quite unbelievable. Here was Christine, who was usually quiet reasonable, spouting off total nonsense about him not loving her just because of the way she looked!? The irony of the situation was so ludicrous that he had to laugh.

Coming over to her he took her in his arms and rocked her back and forth until her tears subsided. Then as he wiped away the moisture from her eyes he spoke words of such heartfelt sincerity, that she could not have harbored any remaining doubts.

"You told me once Christine, that what counted was what was inside a person. That is why I love you Christine, your heart is pure gold and large enough to hold the compassion to love me in return. I would adore you no matter what you looked like, but to me you are the most beautiful woman in the world. Every time I look at you I see evidence of our love as it grows inside you and I all but burst with pride. You are my love and my life Christine and without you I am nothing. Never forget that." He told her, followed by a confirming kiss of passion.

Christine never said another disparaging remark about being fat again.

The months ahead were filled with much laughter and love between the two, but Christine noticed that as the eminent day of their child's birth drew near Erik began to become distant at times, shying away from simple things such as the choice of a name for the baby. Although he seemed to have an endless stream of suggestions for a girl's name, he would clam up and become withdrawn at the mention of names should it be a boy. This puzzled Christine, didn't all men want to have a son?

"Do you not want a boy?" She asked one evening when the situation repeated itself once again. "A son could follow in your footsteps, possibly take over the management of the Opera House someday. You could take him fishing on the lake, teach him to play the piano and sing. Though I know my father loved me dearly, he had always wished for a son to carry on his name and follow his professional interests and to…"

"To be the spitting image of him?" He asked in a low tone, standing by the fireplace with his back turned to her

Now Christine knew what thoughts lay behind his fear filled eyes each time the subject of a boy child was brought up. Erik feared that a son of his would bare the disfiguring marks of his father.

"Oh Erik, is that what you are afraid of? That he may not be born perfect?" She asked, rising with some difficulty due to her size, and came over to him. "No child is perfect, except in the eyes of the parents who love it. I will love this baby with all my heart, Erik, no matter what. Are you afraid you may not be able to?" She questioned.

Erik turned around and hugged Christine tightly.

"I will love any child born from you Christine, how could I not. But I desire a little girl with hair of sunshine gold, your laughing blue eyes and flawless features. It would pain me beyond belief to see a son of mine put through the same torturous existence I knew, should he be unfortunate enough to inherit a face such as mine," he looked away, his eyes now seeing a time long past. "I used to hate my mother for the way she treated me, but now…now I pity her. I can imagine the joy and anticipation she must have felt at the expectation of my birth, just as I too wait now, making future plans for our child. She undoubtedly did the same, sewing hopes and dream, into each stitch of baby clothes, never imagining until that fateful day how futile they had all been. I can now understand her malice towards me Christine, for I alone held the power to destroy all she had longed for those many months. I alone was the unintentional cause for her sorrow. My mother was so beautiful, always so perfect, and the idea that something as hideous as I could have come from her frightened her beyond belief. I was the constant and unwanted reminder of that. That was why I ran from her and my only home at such an early age, for though I didn't quite understand the contempt she held for me, I knew that I made her sad. Lately I have found myself wondering if she is still alive, where she may live now. For I feel a latent desire to see her, to say I am sorry and tell her I now understand," he finished, his gaze still miles... no years, away.

"Say you're sorry?! That you understand?" Christine said in disbelief. "What she did was unforgivable!"

"Nothing is unforgivable Christine, and though I said I understood her actions, I don't condone them. Yet, everyone has their failings, no one is perfect. So I cannot condemn her for her mistakes in life just as I hope people won't condemn me for mine," he gave a regretful laugh. "I of course would never actually seek out my poor, unhappy mother. I am sure I caused her enough pain to last a lifetime. It was just a passing thought," he then reached down and laid his hand on Christine's stomach, smiling brightly as he felt the baby kick. "Do not fear Christine. I will love our child completely and without reservation, no matter what. I have simply lived through an existence that I would not wish upon my worst enemy, much less our innocent and beloved child. Yet whether it is a beautiful girl or a sadly deformed boy, I swear to you that each day it shall know that it is loved beyond reason."

"Oh Erik," was all Christine could bring herself to say around the lump that had formed in her throat. They sat together in silence, wrapped up in the warmth of their love long into the night.

Again their lives continued normally, and the subject of a name was not mentioned again. It could wait for the not so distant time when the baby would arrive. Then would be soon enough.

During the last few weeks, Erik intensified his vigil of Christine, ever ready to sound the alarm should she feel the slightest twinge of pain. It was during dinner one evening when Raoul and Meg were over celebrating the announcement of their engagement that the time came. Christine was carrying a small glass tray from the table to the kitchen when it suddenly slipped from her fingers as she grabbed her stomach with a cry of pain. Erik was at her side almost instantaneously, sweeping her up into his arms away from the shards of glass. Knowing from the intensity of the pain that this was no false alarm, he sent Raoul out to fetch the doctor, while he carried Christine up to their room. Meg, though nervous, was also a bundle of excitement for her friend, and she kept Christine's spirits high between contractions while they waited for the doctor.

As the hours passed, Erik and Raoul fond themselves once again barred from Christine's side by the arrival of the aged doctor and midwife. Much to Erik's envy, Meg was once again allowed to stay where he was not. The clock ticked by so slowly that several times Erik was sure it had run down and picked it up to rewind it. On the third time the key broke off in his sweating hand, rendering the deceptive time peace useless.

"Come now Erik. Women have been having babies for centuries. It is the most natural thing in the world, or so I am told. Don't worry so much," Raoul said to Erik, laughing softly at the pitiful sight Erik made.

"I will remind you of your words on the eve of your own child's birth," Erik returned, none to tolerantly.

"Be my guest, dear friend, but I assure you I shall not be needing such reassurance. I intend to be completely calm and composed at the birth of each of my children, and Meg and I plan on having quite a few," he told Erik, matter of factly as he poured a drink for the frazzled expectant father.

"Are you and Christine planning to have any more after this one?" He asked as he handed the drink to Erik.

"Raoul, for pity sake, let me see if I can live through this one first," Erik pleaded, accepting the glass and downing its contents in one gulp. He choked suddenly, his throat on fire. "What was that?!" He whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Strait Vodka." Raoul replied, taking a small sip of his own drink. "You looked as though you needed something strong, but I certainly didn't expect you to drink all of it at once," he looked at Erik's pale face, it almost as white as his mask. "Would you like another?"

Erik waved him off, unable to speak and whether it was because of the drink or Raoul's obvious stupidity, he couldn't say.

When the first cry from Christine had been heard from upstairs, Raoul had suggested the two step out for a walk or something until it was all over, but Erik sternly refused. He had wanted to stay as close to Christine as possible, but now as her voice rose in intensity he began to wish he had accepted Raoul's suggestion. Still… there was no turning back now. He had committed himself to staying, and remain he would until the end.

Again Christine called out, causing Erik to flinch. Never before had he wanted so much to go to her aid, and never before had he felt so helpless.

Then as suddenly as one of Christine's cries started, it abruptly stopped. Causing both Erik and Raoul to spring to their feet, staring at the upstairs door in anticipation. Then, faintly at first, but growing in strength the two men were blessed with the sound of a baby's cry. Oh how it was music to Erik's ears as he closed his eyes and drank in the sound.

"Congratulations!" Raoul said, slapping him on the back. "You're a father!"

"I'm a father?" Erik repeated in disbelief. "I am actually a father!" Erik repeated.

Suddenly a cry from Christine stopped them dead in their tracks. What had happened?! Why would Christine have cried out? Erik raced to the foot of the steps, his legs unable to carry him any further. His worst fears were coming true. The child was hideous, so much so that even his loving and compassionate Christine could not hold back her fright. Then another thought assaulted him, what if there was a problem with Christine? What if something had happened to her? Erik could not imagine raising their child alone without Christine's gently strength to guide him. He too would die of grief, he was sure of it, leaving their child alone in the world. He clutched his chest that pounded with each beat of his heart, and waited with sick fear for someone to emerge from the room and relate to him the news he dreaded so desperately.

When the door did open the person who came bolting out took no notice of the two anxious men at the bottom of the stairs. It was the midwife and she ran quickly to the hall closet, extracted a handful of clean towels and blankets and rushed back into the room, closing the door without a word.

"What is going on up there?" Erik demanded, heading up the steps.

"Hold on now, Erik!" Raoul said, stopping him with a hand on his arm. "You would just be in the way. I know it is killing you to do so, but you will just have to wait."

Erik overcame the sudden urge to break Raoul's arm and head up anyway, and instead sank down, sitting on the steps in despair. As the minutes ticked by he became aware that at least Christine was still alive for she would cry out in pain at regular intervals, her voice searing through him, but it had been some time since he had heard the baby. Had it not lived and that was the source of Christine's anguish? Or was she herself in mortal danger? Erik wished he could go numb, to cease feeling these painful emotions that bombarded him.

Then once again Christine's cries abruptly ended, but this time Erik stared at the door in dread not anticipation. His heart was eased somewhat when he heard the baby cry again, confirming that it at least has survived. It seemed like hours before the door opened once again. This time it was the doctor who came out, followed by the midwife. The doctor looked tired, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief as he signaled for the two men to come up. Erik took each step like a man who was sleepwalking until he stood in front of the doctor, Raoul had silently followed behind.

"Is she…alive?" Erik asked, fearing the answer he might receive.

"Of course, dear fellow," the doctor replied, a bit shocked at such a question. "Everything went along quite will, all things considered. Everyone came through the ordeal quite nicely, except for me. I fear I may be getting too old for all this excitement, and if you will indulge me, I think I will get a drink before I leave," the doctor said as he headed down stairs. "Feel free to go in now, I'm sure your wife is anxious to see you. Oh, and congratulations." Were his final words as he headed for the liquor cabinet, all the while the midwife was scolding him on such bad habits and the sins of alcohol.

Erik looked at Raoul questioningly. If both Christine and the baby were fine, or so the doctor indicated, then what had been the cause for the added excitement after the baby's birth?

Erik pushed the door open and entered nervously. His first sight was of Meg kneeling by the bed, smiles of joy being exchanged between her and an extremely tired looking Christine, who lay amid the pillows and blankets. With a final kiss on Christine's forehead, Meg rose and came over to Erik. He was still in shock and didn't react much when she hugged him tightly whispering her congratulations to him before taking Raoul's hand, leading him out the door and closing it behind them.

"Come here Erik," Christine said softly. "Come and see what we made."

Her voice willed his legs to carry him to her side.

"Are you all right Christine?" He asked, wishing for her confirmation.

"Well, it is not something I wish to do every day, but yes, I am quite well. Deliriously so in fact," from the bundle beside her there came a soft plaintive cry, causing Erik's attention to focus on it.

"Is it a girl or a boy?" He asked, mesmerized by the small movements that could be seen beneath the blanket.

Christine reached over and lifted the blanket carefully, revealing the tiny baby as she spoke.

"We have a son, Erik, a perfect little son," she told him, tears springing to her eyes. Yet, before Erik had time to completely absorb this wondrous news she pulled the blanket back further, revealing a second child. "As well as an equally beautiful daughter."

Erik would have literally fallen backwards if he hadn't grabbed on to the bed post for support. Twins: In all this time the thought of having twins had never entered his mind. All his pent up worries and anxieties flooded away at the sight of the two angelic babies lying beside his beautiful wife. Erik reached out his hand towards them, but drew it back with an unsure look at Christine.

"Can I touch them?" He asked, afraid they may break if he even breathed on them.

"You had better do more than that, for I am not going to shoulder the care for these two darlings myself," she laughed, sitting up and taking each one in turn and placing them in Erik's fumbling but protective arms. "The time has come to give them names. We can't put it off any longer for I refuse to call them 'he' and 'she' all the time," Christine said, watching as Erik looked from one to the other in complete adoration.

Erik looked down at his infant son who stared back with unusually bright eyes. This was the child his mother would have wanted. She would have never hesitated to give the name of her beloved husband to a flawless child such as this one. So out of some sort of longing to make up for all the lost years and in the memory of the father he never knew, he named his son accordingly.

"You shall be called Anthony Alexander," he said, the baby not voicing any opinion as to whether he approved or not.

"I love it," Christine said as she repeated it to herself. "A very handsome name for a handsome boy," she didn't need to ask the meaning behind the name. For Erik had long ago related the story of the name he had been deprived of at birth, and giving it now to his own son, seemed a fitting tribute.

Erik then turned to his still sleeping daughter.

"And you, our little surprise," Erik began. "You shall be named…" He thought long and hard trying to come up with a name that matched her innocent beauty.

"Erika Ashley," Christine said at long last, choosing the name herself. "Erika, for she shall be her father's little girl and Ashley after my mother."

Erik smiled at Christine, unable to speak at the splendid gift she had just bestowed. He then leaned down to kiss his daughter's tiny cheek.

"Yes, your name shall be Erika Ashley," upon hearing her name, Erika opened her eyes and gazed up on her adoring father for the first time and cooed softly.

Erik could not describe the complete feeling of utter joy he had a that moment. As he held his children in his arms for the first time, relishing the warmth, the smell, the very sight of them, he could not imagine a happier man in the world. Two years ago he lived in darkness and misery, now he was enveloped by light and love.

He truly was The Phantom Triumphant!

.

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**Ahhhh, Erik has TWINS! **

**So, what do you think? **

**There is one more chapter to go…what else could possibly happen, you might ask? Well I have one more things planned – let's see if you can guess what it might be….**


	21. Chapter 21

**Well this is it folks. Thank you so much for all your support and I hope this last chapter allows you to 'close the book' with a smile on your face. When you are done, please take a moment to send me a review and tell me what you though...even if you are reading this story a year or two down the road...I would still love to hear from you.**

Chapter 21

_Redemption_

The years passed quickly, as years of happiness tend to do, each day a new discovery for the two children as well as Erik and Christine. There was not a more devoted and attentive husband and father and from the start he took up half the responsibilities of raising the twins. If it weren't for the necessity of her feeding the two, Christine felt she would never have needed to rise from her sleep, should either of them cry at night. For Erik would bound from the bed like a spring and rush in to calm his children before Christine even had a chance to open her eyes. Even when they didn't cry, and had grown accustom to sleeping through the night, Christine would often awaken to find Erik missing from her side, and slipping silently into the nursery she would find him sitting between the two cradles, singing softly to them as they slept.

"You are spoiling them," Christine quietly scolded him one night as he held his late vigil over the cradles. "It is getting so they refuse to even take their naps if not accompanied by a song," she smiled down lovingly at her husband. "Still, it is quite understandable, since it was your voice I first fell in love with, and wake each morning eager to hear." She reached over and blew out the candle, checking one last time on each child as the moon shone through the window and bathed them in its silvery light. Then taking Erik's hand she drew him back into their room and their private world of love.

Erik never stopped doing every little thing for Anthony and Erika, even if it was as silly as racing out after the first snowfall to build them a snowman, never mind the fact that they were only two months old. Christine held them up to the window so they could watch their father as he huffed and puffed happily in the yard. Christine smiled kindly at him, knowing that he had not had much of a childhood himself, and he was now living his missed one through his own children. He stayed outside building long after the two infants had grown bored and fallen asleep, and though it was almost an hour before he came back in, completely soaked to the bone and his hands like ice, Christine didn't have the heart to scold him. His childlike look of satisfaction melted her heart, for Erik had not only built a snowman, but a snow-woman, two snow-children and one snow-cat. Since the children were asleep Erik suggested he take Midnight out to show him his masterpiece, but Christine forbid it, seeing that she better put her foot down somewhere.

Erik had suggested that Raoul and Meg postpone their wedding until Anthony and Erika were old enough to serve as ring bearer and flower girl, but the anxious couple said they couldn't wait that long. Erik and Christine's blissful life had inspired them and they wished to begin their lives together as well. So that spring, under the flowering trees, Meg became the Vicomtes de Chagny, as Erik and Christine looked on with pride. For after all, it hadn't been for them, the two would never have got together.

Five more years past, and the children grew in vibrant health and happiness. Both Anthony and Erika had shown a mastery of music at an early age, Anthony already quite proficient at the piano and his voice held the promise of growing as magnificent as his father's. Erika on the

other hand preferred the violin, taking after Christine's father she insisted, and practiced constantly to become a singer like her mother. Erik had begun to teach them both English and Italian, their having already mastered their native French. Though Christine had at first argued that it was too much for ones so young, they picked them up quite easily, excelling past even their father's expectations. They were truly indeed most extraordinary children and even if not, there was no way to convince their parents otherwise.

It was in the late fall of their sixth year together that something odd happened. It was strange, but somehow right.

Erik had set aside rehearsals that day at the Opera House. The huge curtain had become torn and old over the past years and a new one had been ordered. So with both Firmin and Andre away on vacation, and the prosperous Opera House being left in Erik's skillful hands, it was up to him to see to the raising of the new one.

Christine was just returning from the office where Erik had sent her to search for one of the huge metal rings that would hold it to the rod. It had apparently been overlooked in the box when the others had been extracted and she raced down through the isle waving it proudly.

"Ah, my lovely wife has saved the day!" Erik said, kissing her briefly as he turned back to the waiting men. "The curtain shall rise after all."

Everyone found Erik to be very gracious and easy to work for, and they greatly enjoyed his bouts of good humor, even in the face of delays and occasional mistakes.

Christine smiled up at the stage as she watched him work, even now the mere sight of his majestic form setting her heart afire. She began to leave, figuring it was time to start lunch for Anthony and Erika. The children would be back from their day with Meg soon and she was certain they would be starving. It was then that she noticed a loan figure who sat in a seat in the middle of the auditorium, watching the work as it continued on the stage. The Opera House doors were usually unlocked during the day and people frequently came in to look around and admire the architecture, but for some reason Christine felt oddly drawn to this person. So walking up the isle she greeted the elderly woman kindly.

"Are you perhaps waiting for someone working on the stage? They will be done soon," she said.

The woman looked up at her when she spoke, apparently having been lost in thought and had not been aware of Christine's approach. She seemed to ponder her question for a second before replying.

"No, I am not waiting for anyone. I just came in to look around and needed to rest a bit," she turned her stare back to the stage, her eyes once more getting that detracted look. Christine misunderstood this for a dismissal and began to leave, but the woman stopped her.

"Wait…please," her voice was almost urgent. "Could you spare a few minutes to talk with an old lady?" She asked, patting the seat beside her.

Christine came back over and sat down in the chair, still feeling this odd sensation from the woman.

"Did I hear correctly when the gentleman on the stage referred to you as his wife?" She asked, the absurdity of her question surprising Christine.

"Why yes. We have been married for six years now." She turned her attention to Erik as he worked with the large curtain. The love and devotion that shown in her eyes did not go unnoticed by the woman and it seemed to make her both happy and sad at the same time.

"And…the fact that he must wear a mask doesn't bother you?" She inquired.

Christine had been asked that very same question many times over the past years. Most of the people were just curious and did not mean to sound rude, while others were _nosy _busy bodies who only wished for a piece of juicy gossip. Each time Christine had held her head high and answered from her heart, satisfying those with good intentions while shaming those who didn't. Yet the tone of voice this woman used confused Christine. She couldn't tell exactly where her motives for asking lay, so she chose her answer carefully.

"It bothers me that I know he will always be just a bit self-conscious about it. That when people first meet him they see only the mask and not the kind and gentle man he is. but as for me personally, no the mask, nor what is behind it, has ever bothered me," Christine's eyes had strayed back to Erik once more as she spoke, and when she turned back to face the lady, she was startled to see that the woman was crying.

"Bless you child," she whispered softly as she wiped her tears with a tissue.

"What for?" Christine asked in amazement.

"For showing a foolish old woman that there is still compassion left in this world. That it hadn't died years ago as I had believed," she sniffed, patting Christine's hand gently.

"I'm sorry, Madame, I don't quite understand what you mean," Christine said, still confused.

"That's all right dear. You don't have to," the woman answered.

Just then the door at the top of the isle opened and Anthony and Erika came running down towards her, followed by a weary and eight month pregnant Meg.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Erika cried as she ran towards Christine. "Look what I picked for you in the park," she said proudly as she handed her mother a slightly wilting dandelion.

"Oh thank you, sweet heart. It is beautiful," she put it to her nose and inhaled deeply. "It smells so nice too, thank you," she kissed her smiling daughter's cheek in gratitude.

"I had saved a piece of candy for father, but it started to melt in my hand and Aunt Meg said I better eat it before I made a mess," Anthony said, but he didn't sound too remorseful about doing it.

"Well it was a fine thought and I am sure your father will appreciate it," Christine told her son, rumpling his hair. "So are you hungry?" She asked.

"They shouldn't be after all they had at the park today, but you know kids, always a bottomless pit." Meg answered as she came up.

"Thank you so much for taking them today. There won't be many sunny days left before winter sets in," she told her friend.

"I enjoyed it. They are no trouble at all and besides I need the practice," Meg said, patting her stomach. "I better go though, Raoul is

expecting me and you know how worried he gets if I am even a few minutes late. "

"I thought he agreed not to call out the police again to search for you if you were delayed?" Christine said, remembering how embarrassed Meg had been to find out that a manhunt had been issued because _she _had been shopping a little longer than expected with Christine. Raoul had been worried that she had gone into premature labor somewhere and he couldn't find her.

"Oh he swore he wouldn't do that again, but you never know what his warped mind will think of next. In fact I found out that he paid the doctor to cancel all of his appointments for the next month and engaged him as my personal physician. Can you believe it, on call 24 hours just for me! How ridiculous, and I though Erik had gone overboard on this protective stuff when you were pregnant. I think Raoul is twice as bad." Meg said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with you on that one, but Erik is still a close second," Christine laughed as she bid Meg goodbye.

Anthony had noticed the lady beside Christine by now and looked at her inquisitively.

"Who are you?" He asked with all of his childish forwardness.

"You remember your manners, young man," Christine told him, then turned back to the woman. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name." She confessed.

"It is Ms. La'Shey." The woman told her almost hesitantly.

"My name is Christine and this is my daughter Erika and my son Anthony," she introduced, proud of the way Erika curtsied and Anthony bowed politely.

Again a strange look came over Ms. La'Shey as she reached out her hand and touched Anthony' cheek.

"Anthony… what a handsome young man you are," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "And you, Erika…you are so pretty," she finished touching the little girls soft curls. "You and your husband must be very proud."

"We are." Christine assured her.

Just then a cheer went up from the stage and Christine turned to see that the raising of the curtain was complete, the men all standing back to admire their work.

"Daddy's done!" Erika said, clapping her hands. "Can we go see him now?" She begged.

"All right, but stay by the first row until he comes down," she instructed as the two rushed off, eager to share their day with Erik.

Christine and Ms. La'Shey watched as Erik jumped off the stage when he saw them coming and swept them up in his arms, spinning them around amid fits of laughter.

Ms. La'Shey gave a sigh of regret as she rose slowly to her feet.

"Well I must be going. It has been lovely meeting you and your children Christine. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me," she reached into her handbag and extracted something wrapped in a silk handkerchief. "I wonder if you would be so kind as to give this to Erik, your husband. It isn't much, but he may find it interesting."

"I would be glad to, but I could introduce you to him now if you wished to give it to him yourself," she offered, stepping into the isle so the woman could get by.

"No. I would much rather you give it to him for me," she turned to go then looked back. "And tell him…tell him I'm sorry," then she began to walk slowly up the isle towards the door, leaning on the outside chairs for support.

Christine watched her go for a second then headed down to where Erik and the children were talking.

"Who was that?" Erik asked, spotting the woman as he set Anthony and Erika down.

"A very strange lady. Well not so much her, but the way she acted. She asked a lot of questions about you then she asked me to give you this and tell you that she was sorry." Christine said, handing him the handkerchief.

"Sorry for what?" He asked as he took it.

"I don't know, in fact I couldn't make heads or tails out of most of what she said." Christine shrugged.

Erik began unfolding the handkerchief, but his hands froze as he saw what lay inside.

"Oh, what a handsome pocket watch," Christine exclaimed, seeing the intricate design engraved on it.

Erik carefully opened it up, his expression of disbelief was tinged with sadness. Inside the watch was a small picture of a beautiful woman and a man standing together. Christine at once recognized the resemblance between the woman in the picture and Ms. La'Shey. Christine guessed it was a picture of herself when younger, but as for who the man was, that remained a mystery.

"How strange of her to give you this." Christine said.

''Her name…?" Erik whispered, looking up at the woman who was still walking up the aisle. "Did she tell you her name?"

"Yes, she said it was Ms. La'Shey." Christine told him, his manner beginning to frighten her slightly. "Who is she Erik?"

Erik looked from Christine to the watch several times before answering.

"I think she is…my mother," he said in a low voice. "La'Shey was her maiden name, and this watch used to belong to my father. That woman could only be my mother."

Christine stared blankly at Erik. No wonder she had been drawn to this woman. The resemblance had been there if she had been looking for it.

"What should I do?" Erik asked, no knowing which way to turn.

"Follow your heart Erik," Christine told him, putting her hand on his arm. "Listen to it and let it guide you. It is up to you, I can't decide for you, but she did seem truly sorry and sad. Maybe you need to do this as much as she needs you to."

Erik looked from Christine to the departing woman and back again. Six years ago he may have been able to let her go without a second thought…but not now. Christine's love had changed him, shown him the power of forgiveness. There had been too many years of pain and all Erik wanted to do was put them behind him. He had his family, their love and he was happy. He now wanted to share this happiness with his mother.

So grasping the watch tightly, and kissing Christine, he headed up the aisle.

The woman was just about out the door when he stopped her.

"Mother?" Christine heard him call, fear and uncertainty showing in his voice. She watched as the woman stiffened, then slowly turned back around. Erik came forward until they were arm's length apart and though she could not hear what they were saying, she could read their actions. His mother seemed uncertain, her head lowered in shame, but Christine could see that Erik was trying to reach out to her. Whatever he was saying began to draw her out, his deep and mesmerizing voice obviously working wonders. She even glanced up at him, her eyes full of hope and tears. Then as Erik reached across the small space separating them, he instead reached across the years. The next thing Christine knew, they were caught in each other's embrace, holding one another tightly as if they would never let go. Tears sprang to Christine's eyes as she watched the mother and son reunite. There would be no more ghosts for Erik to lay to rest, no more regrets, nothing left undone. Their lives were complete now, Christine felt sure of this.

"Mommy," Erika said, tugging on her sleeve. "You're crying? Does the lady hugging Daddy make you sad?"

Christine knelt down and put an arm around each child.

"No my darling, it makes me very happy. You see that lady is your Grandmother and it has been a long time since your father has seen her, so it makes me very happy to see them together again."

"But you are crying?" Anthony pointed out.

"Sometimes, grownups cry when they are happy, not only when they are sad," she explained.

"Will I cry because I am happy when I growup?" Anthony asked.

"I hope so dear. I hope we will all have many more reasons to shed tears of joy."

Over the many years that followed they certainly did. Erik and Christine's home rang with laughter on numerous occasions. The house knew much happiness through several grandchildren and a large supply of kittens, proudly sired by Midnight. Erik and Christine became pillars of the community and when the much loved and respected couple eventually died, minutes apart in each others arms, they were mourned by many. They were placed in the graveyard by the lake side by side, and their head stones read these inscriptions.

On Erik's:

"He was a Phantom set free by love."

And on Christine's was written:

"She was love set free by a Phantom."

Above them both stood a curiously old statue of a small angel made of marble, named Pierre, and though he knew and saw everything; he kept all his secrets to himself.

_Thus ends The Phantom Triumphant._

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**I would like to thank you all for reading and reviewing! I enjoyed each and every one of your delightful comments! You were all wonderful.**

**If you enjoyed my story, I would like to invite you all to join me on a pleasure cruise with a sexy pirate named…you guessed it…Erik. He and his ship, The Phantom, will be setting sail tomorrow. We have rounded up the whole crew for the voyage, Christine, Nadir, Meg, M. Giry, Papa Daae and of course….Raoul. **

**So grab your life vests, your bottle of rum and eye patches and join in on the fun and adventure. It will be a long story, with many twists, turns, treasure, storms, battles, secrets, bad guys and love… but it will go fast since I will be posting DAILY again, unless I fall behind. It will be rated "M" for mature theme – pirates tend to fight and attack things you know – but not for explicit sex. There will be some really good smut light of course, but I will leave the full calorie smut and nocturnal activities to YOUR overactive imaginations. Ha ha. So those who tend to avoid M ratings for that reason can still join in on the fun without blushing when reading. **

**I look forward to seeing you all there – so hit the "follow author" button and keep a weathered eye out for "Siren of the Sea".**

**Ok…now please hit the review button and tell me what you thought of the last chapter of The Phantom Triumphant. Thank you again!**


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